Protecting His Kitten
by RaeAnne
Summary: UPDATED 11.28.07! NEW CHAPTER Sequel to Turn Me On. As Cameron recovers House comes to realize that she means more to him than just being his immunologist. !.! COMPLETE !.!
1. Chapter 1

**TITLE: **Protecting His Kitten  
**AUTHOR: **RaeAnne  
**RATING: **PG, PG-13  
**SPOILERS: **Well, through the second season and as this is the sequel to _Turn Me On_, it would spoil that story if you haven't read it.  
**DISCLAIMER: **House not mine, and we'll use that pretty good rule of thumb that if you recognize it, it isn't mine :-) Lyrics, Elvis Costello.  
**  
A/N: **Hi! Well here it is the sequel to Turn Me On! I hadn't planned on writing this but when it was requested it—it seemed like a fun idea. Hope you enjoy! RA  
**OHH**, almost forgot, I am changing the guy who shot House (Cameron in my story), I have made up a character for this story—totally not Jack Moriarty, just a note so everybody doesn't tell me that I have the wrong guy LOL.

**Protecting His Kitten**

_You better leave my kitten all alone  
Well I tell you big bad bulldog  
Well, you better leave her alone  
Don't you know  
My kitten isn't dead  
Don't you know  
My kitten isn't dead  
So get your hands off of her  
Cause I'm her lovin' man_  
—_**Elvis Costello, Leave My Kitten Alone**_

"Maybe you don't get this officer—" House moved his eyes to read the police officers name badge "Officer Ass-Kisser but that is my doctor in that OR so I don't really give a damn about your protocol and reports. What I do give a damn about is you getting the guy who put her there and throwing his sorry ass in jail," House yelled gesturing wildly before palming several vicodin from the small bottle in his suit jacket.

"Dr. House, the man who shot Dr. Cameron is in critical condition in this hospitals ICU—he has been arrested and will be formally charged. Right now, my job is to take this report to see if you and your colleagues will be charged in the beating of Mr. March." The officer whose name was really Jefferies gritted his teeth trying to be understanding of the situations but he had his job like everyone else.

"He—shot—my—immunologist! I see that you are having troubles with this, I apologize, I did not realize I was talking to a moron so I'll speak slower and just give you the highlights okay Keystone?

"Bad man March—see I knew he was the bad guy because he carried the gun—you do know what a gun is right? Black, shiny—no best not say shiny lest you get distracted…well anyway, it goes bang—leaves a nasty hole. Well this SOB came in and shot—as in made bleed profusely with a small lead bullet, my doctor. Seeing this I subdued—that is to say I 'stopped' this bad man from shooting her more than the two times he already had and as neither myself or my colleagues were eager to be next we incapacitated him…See I am failing to see where we are the bad guys in all this…Are you following me Krupke or should I speak even slower perhaps use visual aids?" House was ranting close to psychotic.

Everyone in the surgical waiting room was staring wide-eyed. "What? What? You got a problem?" House yelled throwing his arm wide at the people who quickly dropped their eyes and pulled their loved ones closer.

"House!" a sharp voice got House's attention.

"What?" House glared fire eyed at Wilson.

"She's out of surgery."

House stilled absorbing it. He silently asked the question his throat refused to utter.

"She's in recovery—she's going to be okay," Wilson gave a small smile with his nod.

House drew a breath letting it move through him. Dismissing the officer, he walked out of the waiting room. He felt it best—if he didn't leave, he couldn't be held responsible for his actions.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"This is stupid. All due respect detective but he had a gun—he shot Cameron, what would you have had us do? Ask him kindly if he'd stop being a lunatic?" Chase paced the width of Cuddy's office hands in his pockets.

"Chase is right, we had no other choice. I find it asinine you are even questioning us. Our actions were justified. Clearly, it was self defense as we were using reasonable force to protect our persons as well as our colleague what we did is the definition of self defense!" Foreman spoke from his chair in the corner.

The detective raised an eyebrow, "Either you've been watching too much Judge Joe Brown or you've done this before…Beat someone up, claimed self defense…"

Foreman folded his arms, "First of all Detective Mathis, Joe Brown is small claims not criminal as for the second…know what I am not going to go there—it would be pointless," Foreman shook his head in disgust and disbelief.

The detective opened his mouth to retort but Cuddy intervened; "Okay, I think we've cooperated fully detective and you have taken their statements so I think we are done for today. If you need to further talk with Dr. Chase, Dr. Foreman or myself you can do so through this hospitals in house council, here is his card," Cuddy handed over a crisp linen colored card embossed with name Charles Dove.

The burly wide shoulder detective accepted the card staring down Cuddy who stood behind her desk looking authoritative and resolved. Shaking his head, he lumbered from the office.

"Well this is just great, guy shoots Cameron and somehow we end up the criminals!" Chase lamented.

Cuddy sat rubbing her temple with two fingers in small circles, "No…you aren't going to be but House might."

"What? House is a cripple…how can they say he beat up March?" Foreman leaned his elbows on his knees.

"March is lying in the ICU with five broken ribs, a punctured lung, ruptured spleen, dislocated shoulder, brain swelling from a concussion, a shattered cheek bone, two broken hands, bruised kidneys and almost all injuries were the result of repeated swings by House's cane. We can't dispute this because the shape and impact points of the injuries are irrefutably the work of the handle of said cane.

"I don't know why they would go after him considering the circumstances but if appearances are correct I'll be courting a criminal defense lawyer before the this mess is over…It might be easier if March dies of his injuries as justifiable homicide might be easier to sell to a jury…" Cuddy let her shoulders drop with defeat.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"She's strong, she'll recover well. The bullet to her abdomen will undoubtedly give her the most pain but it missed vital organs the mending of muscle and tissue will take a while but it could have been much worse. The bullet to her neck is mostly superficial and it bled a lot but not threatening," Wilson calmly stood next to House at Cameron's bed side, "There is going to be pain but overall she is doing excellent," Wilson put a hand on House's shoulder to get him to look at him, "She's fine—she's going to be fine."

House nodded looking to Cameron who hadn't woken from the anesthesia yet. "Why did the asshole shoot her?"

Wilson was silent one hand in his pocket. Neither could think of a reason as to why someone would want to hurt Cameron. Foreman, maybe, Chase why not, House most certainly but not Cameron—never Cameron. The idealist, the tender hearted, the advocate, the one who fought for what was moral and right. Not her, it shouldn't have been her.

"This shouldn't have happened," House slammed his cane against the wall before spinning and marching as fast as his throbbing leg would allow him from the room.

Wilson had a very good idea where his friend was headed and what his intentions were once he got there…he wanted him to get there just as he wanted answers too. But he didn't want House to end up in jail so he waited—and then he followed.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

The nurses were familiar with House's tirades and avoided him when he blustered and today, though they were instructed to notify security if he was seen on the floor, they acted no different than they would have on any other day. They disappeared ignoring him completely—they liked Dr. Cameron—she didn't deserve what happened.

House pulled open the door to March's room with flair—angry, outraged flair. The man's name was Marcus March, he was thirty-five but House really couldn't care less about the man's name or chart, he didn't care about whom he was—all he knew was that this was the man that shot Cameron.

They were keeping him sedated as his injuries were severe and insanely painful. Sedation was too good for him. House pulled a syringe and small bottle from a near drawer. He felt a small twinge of satisfaction as he pressed the plunger full of clear liquid into the IV.

It took a few moments but the man's eyelids began to flutter and a groan pushed through paper thin white lips. Finally, the sunken eyes opened already wide with pain and panic.

"Hello—remember me?" House growled leaning over March's bed.

March garbled a cry of outrage and fear from around his breathing tube.

"Yes, I want to have a conversation too," House grabbed hold of the breathing tube, yanking it without finesse or care.

March choked his throat constricting as he gagged. He tried to scream for help but House's hand clamped over his mouth.

"Feel that burning in your chest? That's your punctured lung—that throbbing in your side? Your broken ribs and that consuming pain in your face? That's crushed bone and I swear to God all that will be nothing compared to the pain I will give you if you don't tell me why you shot Cameron." House didn't yell, didn't raise his voice, in fact his words where uttered so lowly, so softly so deadly March would have preferred the yelling.

March flailed but with both hands in casts and anchored to his bed his every movement was sending rockets of anguish all through his body.

"When I remove my hand you can scream and I will make you wish that I had broken your neck instead of your hands—or you can tell me what I want to know." House lifted his eyebrows daring the man to try, to give him any reason as he removed his hand.

March heeded no warning.

House's hand came down with wrath as the knuckles of his other hand twisted into March's side where the broken ribs were. March cried against the unrelenting hand the pain nearly unbearable. House watched March's eyes start to roll back and he lessened the pressure of his knuckles at the last second before he knew the pain would make him unconscious.

"Shall we try again?" House growled seething.

March quit screaming eyes clearing. House removed his hand again.

"She…is…a slut…Deserved it…" March gasped gravely on a cough.

"Wrong answer," House's eyes caught massive fire, he covered again the man's mouth, and this time he pushed the fingers of his other hand into March's shattered cheek bone.

"That's enough House."

House looked over his shoulder to see Wilson in the doorway.

"I need to know why."

"You need to stop," Wilson stared him down. House struggled.

"You'll get your answers and he'll get his punishment but right now you need to walk away."

House didn't look back at March but he walked away. March immediately began to call for help but over the ruckus, House was still able to hear Wilson say "She's awake."

For the third though not the last, House pushed his aching leg to carry him to Cameron's side.

* * *

TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you, thank you for the reviews! You guys are awesome!! Enjoy! RA **

* * *

"Why are you waiting out here? Go in," Wilson held open the door.

House leaned heavily on his cane eyes focused on Cuddy who was blocking Cameron from view.

"House she needs you." Wilson was confused and his furrowed brow showed it.

"And from where exactly did you pull this is spontaneous knowledge? She doesn't need me she needs answers." House brought his tired gaze to Wilson.

"No—you need answers. She needs reassurance and people to tell her that it's okay and she needs your damned sarcasm so she knows everything is normal. Get in there," Wilson gestured with his eyes.

House gritted his teeth but lumbered in. "How's the patient Cuddy? One step closer to God since she's all holey and everything," House put a cheeky smile across his face siding up to the bed.

Cameron looked up to meet his eyes but couldn't hold the gaze. She gestured for Cuddy to lean in. Cuddy looked confused but leaned in so Cameron could croakily speak into her ear.

House shifted uncomfortably looking down at Cameron. She looked okay, pale—her skin almost translucent, but she was alive. A more thorough exam could wait since it would only be to give him peace of mind.

Cuddy pulled back expression masked confusion and eyes just a bit timid. Everyone waited for her speak, when she did it was quiet "Cameron asks that you please leave…she says she can't do this with you here."

It was directed at him, House blinked. He flexed his fingers on his cane, anything to exhaust some of the sudden anger. "Fine—" he clenched his jaw and disappeared; only the thud of his cane echoing.

Wilson was dumbstruck shaking his head he stole a quick look at Cuddy who could only raise her shoulders slightly in bewilderment as he headed out the door after House.

Cuddy turned now to the only occupant left in the room. Cameron had covered her mouth with the back of her hand trying seemingly to stifle, though unsuccessfully, a sob. Cuddy tried to think of something to say and just as she was about to muddle something out a nurse came knocking on the open door saying she was needed.

"Get some rest Cameron…I'll be by later to check on you," Cuddy rushed hesitating on whether she should hug the younger woman or something. She settled for patting her on the shoulder.

Cameron alone in her room struggled to keep her crying at bay. She was thankful she was alone because she knew she couldn't begin to explain her reaction. She felt the pain of her wounds but she knew the real trauma was in her heart and tousled mind. It was her damn hallucination that hadn't been erased that hadn't become less real even after anesthesia.

She could still taste his kiss, feel his hands, smell his aftershave—hear his words running now in a loop. When he had walked in, it had broken; any will that she had built up, any resolve, shattered. She couldn't stand the pressure of his gaze even the ease that his presence once brought to her was gone. Until she could let go of the manufactured memories of him and him and her together she couldn't look at him without a bit of resentment and a whole lot of humiliation.

She cried for a long while hot, sticky endless frustrated tears. She didn't even hear the door opening or the tentative steps.

"What's going on Cameron?"

She was startled visibly by Wilson's gently posed question.

She mustered what little of her façade remained, "I was shot." All bravado was weakened by her obviously red, puffy eyes.

"Come on Cameron, House isn't here, Cuddy isn't here, talk to me." Wilson pulled a chair to her bedside.

"Why would I talk to you? I mean, I appreciate the concern but I'm fine—really; nothing to talk about."

"Allison, come on, you might as well talk because I'm not leaving till I know why after hanging onto House's hand till you were in surgery and why the only thing you said after you were shot and into recovery was his name you sent him away."

Cameron refused to comment, she steeled her expression. But Wilson would not be swayed.

"Alright—till you decided to cooperate I'll talk for both of us. Clearly, something happened—I'll state the obvious. I'm guessing a fight of some sort…" Wilson leaned back in his chair as he crossed an ankle over his knee.

Cameron refused to answer though a small tear dripped down her cheek and fell from her chin. Wilson looked expectantly at her.

"Okay we'll go with fight and knowing House I will say that it was entirely his fault and that he was being a jerk…"

This brought a small cynical laugh from Cameron "It would be so much easier if we had and he was."

"So you didn't fight?" Wilson tipped his head leaning forward.

"No. No, we didn't fight—at least not today, but really I don't think I want to talk to you about this."

"Who else understands House at all besides me? I am the best person you could talk to because though I am his friend I know he is an ass and have told him so—many times. Talk to me Cameron…I'm your friend as well—at least I've always thought I was."

Cameron smiled a little, "You are a friend…" she started to say 'but' then changed her mind and went ahead. "When I was shot, I had a hallucination. It involved House, the details aren't important but it affected me and, at least for the moment, my relationship with him. Please don't ask any more then that…I'm trying to deal with March shooting me…I mean I almost dated him and I just don't…" she trailed.

"You hallucinated? You almost dated March?" Wilson blinked in surprise trying not to let it show.

Cameron nodded vigorously "Yes…in a manner of speaking I did sort of date him—only a couple times…If you could even really call it that…" she spoke slowly, loftily.

"Can we start from the beginning?" Wilson was astonished trying to wrap his head around the implications and possible connotations.

"March was a patient about…oh, six or so months ago. He was a really nice guy and when we finally diagnosed him with Huntington's it was traumatic for him—he's only thirty-five. But he decided to be proactive and I was helping him find a support a group and…we just sort of clicked…" she gasped a little, "I never thought…" she covered her mouth as reality started to sink in. "He shot me…Wilson, he tried to kill me!"

Wilson stood putting a hand on her shoulder finding it hard to think of words that would ease her stricken face or lessen the blow of her hurt. "It's going to be okay, he can't hurt you any more…its okay."

Cameron let him comfort her for a moment closing her eyes trying to let everything evaporate. Silence hung.

Wilson finally broke it, "Your hallucination…" he started.

"Please," she shook her head, "Medically it isn't significant, it hasn't happened again. Please don't ask me the details they don't matter…just know that I can't handle being around House at the moment and that I have to work through that on my own…"

Wilson stilled wanted to explore, wanted to know more but quailed his questions, "Still, I am would like to mention it to Cuddy to make sure she doesn't want to do an MRI—just to be safe."

She nodded her consent.

Wilson started to leave but wavered turning, "I understand that you need time but I hope you understand that House does care—under his sarcasm and God complex. He cares more than you know... Just be careful…" and though he didn't say it she knew what the end of the sentence was, he had warned her of it before _'don't hurt him'_.

Cameron stiffly held her head up saying nothing but Wilson saw that she understood, so with a slight inclination of his head he left her.

Once out in the hall Wilson headed for the elevator, however the heavy footsteps with the third distinctive thud heading in the opposite direction turned him.

"Stop!"

House froze in his escape from Cameron's window though he didn't turn around.

"Come on, turn around," Wilson instructed hands on his hips pushing back his lab coat as he sighed.

"What? You hall monitor now as well as surrogate mommy? I didn't hear anything, if that is what you were worried about," House pouted sarcastically. "Besides why was she talking to you anyway? Why not me?" he strode back.

"It's not for me to tell you."

"Oh and what is that supposed to mean?" House glared at him.

"House, what is going on between the two of you is exactly that—between the two of you. She will tell you when she's ready. Till then you have to wait, okay?"

"Since when did you get a PhD? Cut the psycho crap and tell me why Cameron told me to get out of the room!" House was verging on aggressive.

"In my work psychology comes very much into play for it can affect a patient's chance at recovery greatly. Many studies have shown that cancer patients' outlook…" Wilson started offended.

"Enough Dr. Phil, I don't care! Spit out whatever meaningless garbage you think pertains to the situation with Cameron so you can get on to what I really want to know."

"No. You know what, no. This doesn't involve me—you need to give her time she was shot dammit and if she can't deal with you right now you are going to have to deal with that. Done, end of discussion." Wilson lifted his shoulders mentally washing his hands of it—at least for the moment.

House's breathing became labored as his irritation grew. Wilson gave a tight lipped grim smile and turned away. House watched him enter the elevator before turning back to take one more look into Cameron's room. Her head was in her hands and her shoulders were shaking. A fierce, irrational, consuming protectiveness came over him. He would not lose her. What he feared losing her to he wasn't yet sure but he was ready to fight for and to protect this fragile gentle woman…his kitten. He would protect his kitten.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"You're not going in there," Cuddy stood blocking House from getting off the elevator on the ICU floor.

"Don't you think being both Cameron and the SOB's doctor is a …I don't know, say a conflict of interest, as well as a pretty shitty thing to do?" House lit into Cuddy with reserved hostility.

"I'm not March's doctor but I am the dean of this hospital and I am trying to keep this from getting out of control…I am trying to keep you from going to jail," Cuddy calmly explained though it was taking all her restrain to remain as such. She kept a hand on the door to stop it from closing.

"When will the police question him?" House dismissed her comment.

"I doubt if they will be able to for a few more days yet" _'thanks to your stunt'_ she mentally added.

"When can Cameron go home?"

"I want to keep her at least over night, preferably the next day as well." Cuddy was weary.

House absorbed this, "Okay, you can let go now," he indicated her hand stopping the door.

Cuddy stepped back waving her arm in the 'go ahead, be my guest' gesture then folded her arms with a frustrated huff.

House used his can to jab the button for the roof. The ascent drug on making him crazy, his thoughts ran rampant and erratic, faster than he could fully grasp.

He exited the service elevator going to the small set of steps that led to the roof, laboring his way to the top. It was a biting September evening; the sky was starting to show signs of a downpour. He stepped out, stepped to the ledge. The sun was nearly down leaving streaks of crimson red and burnt orange along the tumultuous looking clouds.

_The wounds were minor—she was okay._

_The wounds were minor—she was okay._

_The wounds were…_He rubbed his face, no amount of repeating this newest mantra was going to help.

March walking into the office; March pulling the gun. House felt his pulse pound again. He saw the recoil of the gun; he swore he saw the bullet in slow motion hit her gut. He didn't move, he blinked and March had gone to stand over her letting another hunk of metal rip into her flesh. He didn't stop him till there had blood pooled around her…

He punched him in the face—hard. He felt the cheekbone shatter. He heard Cameron moan yet he didn't go to her, he beat March till he couldn't see straight while Chase and Foreman went for help. He didn't stop pounding till he heard Cameron moan again—moan his name. Then he went to her side and never left.

House knew good and well he had changed in the seconds between the first and second shot. He knew he had doomed himself, he knew the wall he constructed was destroyed by that first bullet; though to be honest the mortar had started to chip a long time ago. He could rebuild it no doubt—he was good at it, one might say an expert, but he didn't think he wanted to; at least not yet. He was feeling. It wasn't a warm feeling or a good feeling and perhaps that was a good thing for he made a habit of rejecting anything that felt good. No this feeling wasn't good or fine, but it was real and deep and in what could be called a fine display of irony, it felt really _good_ to feel—to _hurt_— that way again.

He was acknowledging his feelings for Cameron and it hurt, it physically and emotionally hurt. He felt it in his gut as it twisted in knots, as it crept up his throat like heartburn, it was a physical hurt and it was mental too—it was scary as hell.

He looked up just then and it started to rain.


	3. Chapter 3

Again, thank you, thank you for the wonderful reviews, you guys are too cool ;-)

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"House…" Foreman looked surprise to see his boss at his desk as he prepared to head home of the night. 

"Hmm…what?" House jerked his mind back from wondering.

"Are you okay? You were just staring…" Foreman closed the office door letting his bag shift from his shoulder to the floor.

"Yeah, fine—was there something you wanted or are you just bugging me for the hell of it?"

Foreman raised his eyebrows at House's defense and quicker than usual snarkyness. "No, I was just on my way out. Aren't you here a little late?"

"Who are you, my father? Well dad, seems as I was doing research I found this great site called Naughty Nurses: Diagnosis Pleasure and the T1 line here is so much faster than my dial up so I thought I would stay and have a look-see!" House answered crudely.

Foreman shook his head fed up, "Fine House," he picked up his back and dead for the door, "Tell Cameron I said goodnight."

House mimicked Foreman and tossed his oversized tennis ball into the trashcan across the room feeling bitter and edgy.

Two hours passed and thirty-six sharpened pencils constructed into a house and his trashcan overflowing with crumpled balls of blank paper was what he had to show for his time spent. His body was tired, his leg throbbed in spite of his pills and his mind was fatigued—yet sleep was the last thing he was considering.

As the remnants of the day started to settle and reduce down, as the chaos dissipated the only things that remained to think on were the emotions—, and they were things he'd rather not broach.

He was in love with Cameron and that was both an emotion and a fact he was loathing. He was trying to talk himself into believing that his emotional attachment to her had sprung from the trauma of the gun—of the shots—the possibility of Cameron dying. This gut wrenching, headache inspiring…this _pain _that he knew all too well to be love, was surely just a misguided outlet for his grief and fear. Yes, he thought, that was the answer. He believed he loved her because he wasn't willing to admit he was scared…surely that was it…That of course, he admitted to himself in anguish, was bullshit.

Yes, the damn shooting brought very well hidden feelings for Cameron to the surface but they weren't born by it. Twirling his cane, he tried to think of reasons to hate Cameron.

She was too emotional.

She made lousy coffee.

She was way too ethical and literal.

She always ate her salad one ingredient at a time…croutons first, then the bacon, then the cucumber followed by the baby corn…

She lingered in his doorway when something bothered her…she'd fold her arms and lift her eyebrows like she thought he should care…which of course he did but would never let on…

He hated her perfume, her habit of brushing her hair over her ear while she talked…he hated the way her eyes lingered on him when she wished him to say more than he had.

Of course, these were things he actually loved about her, all her irritating idiosyncrasies. It was no use and since he was an expert on lost causes, he knew his talking himself out of loving Cameron was one. He stood, leaving his jacket on the back of his chair and his office door swinging.

The hospital was empty but for the night shift nurses and they were either checking on patients, doing charts…, or as House thought most likely, doing it with an intern in a supply closet, so he was able to go to Cameron's room without having to endure questions or awkward stares.

He looked into the darkened room via the window and she was sleeping, because of this he ventured in. He pulled a chair to the bedside and sat quietly. The small wall nightlight gave an eerie glow to her pale skin. He thought that though she didn't look entirely peacefully she at least looked like she was resting. He watched her breathe each breath assuring and heart comforting…till she started to stir.

"No…please…stop…" she started to moan. "Greg…"

House blinked; his name unexpected. "Stop…please…" she groaned as if in pain just as she started to thrash.

"It's okay…Cam…Allison," he put a restraining hand on her shoulder. The way she was twisting he worried she would pull stitches.

"Greggg…" she drew his name out still heavy in her sleep, but she had stilled, settling against his hand.

His heart hammered rapidly and stopped. He trailed his hand down her arm then back up till his fingers lingered a second on the gauze that covered her stitches on her neck. He cupped her cheek. She leaned into his hand and he swore he heard her sigh. He had calmed her, he wasn't the nightmare he was the rescuer. He smiled slightly; he was immeasurably happy at this for reasons he didn't care to know.

It didn't matter where the bulldogs tried to get at her now, he would stand guard. He had found his place—it was here protecting his kitten.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

And that is where the morning and Cuddy found him.

"Go home House—get some sleep," Cuddy shook his shoulder.

House came awake rudely, his body in knots, head throbbing, leg punishing and his eyes blurry and gritting. Cuddy told him he looked like hell; he told her she would know, as she was its Queen.

"What time is it?" House rubbed his face with both hands before grabbing his cane which hung on the side of Cameron's bed rising to follow Cuddy out of the room.

"It's seven, which is how I am without a doubt you slept here and didn't go home." She handed him a cup of coffee.

"Thanks," he acknowledged gruffly, drinking greedily.

Cuddy watched him folding her arms. "I've contacted a lawyer—a criminal lawyer…I think it would be wise if you met with her…"

House glared.

"You have to know the police are going after you…"

"Perhaps, but I never equated Barney Fife with MENSA, but I am fairly sure they don't pull Joe Somebodies of the street to be DA's. There is no way even if the police trump charges that any district attorney will prosecute."

"You don't remember March do you?"

"Should I?" he licked the foam from the lid of his cup.

"You treated him six months ago—Huntington's," she paused till he nodded in the affirmative that he recalled the diagnosis, if not the patient.

"He is the stepson of New Jersey congressman Dane Keelson…it's an election year House. Keelson can't have a scandal. He is going to have every high priced attorney in the state defending his stepson. Their job is going to be making you the criminal, not March."

"What?" House gripped his cup after he nearly dropped it. "March shot Cameron."

"I know that, March is the bad guy but the political spin is going to kill you… You have to see that!"

"I don't care; no jury in the country would convict even if political jockeying gets me charged…however March _is_ going to jail."

Cuddy knew it was in vain to argue with him, to make him understand the gravity of the situation that he was facing. She switched gears, "Did you know Cameron dated March?"

It stung, Cuddy read House quickly. Indignation—infuriation—jealously—they were all stretched taut on his face. But as quickly as they came he masked them quicker.

"There is going to be a battle that is all that I am saying. We wage war on March, no matter how justified and right, we, and by we, I mean mostly you, are going to be slandered, drug through the mud by the media, politicians and lawyers. I am just warning you. The hospital will support you, but you just have to understand…"

House got a particular look on his face; Cuddy didn't have any idea what exactly it was. It was excited, it was almost scary. "What are you going to do House?"

"First?" he grinned, "Kill all the lawyers….then I'm gonna hunt some wrabbits—or congressmen as it were."

Cuddy looked at him mouth open as he started to the elevators with a new decisiveness to his quick step.

They would not take her reputation; they would not make her a piranha nor would they make him the criminal for defending her. War was messy but House didn't care…let the games begin.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

Cameron was supposed to sleep all day but she woke in the late afternoon. Her dreams had been a mix of nightmares and of House which were but another form of torture.

The sweetest hell was when her mind returned to the motorcycle, back to the leather and to his hands roaming and teasing her into a daze of exploding emotion… It was the stripping of armor, the bleeding exposure of her heart that replayed in her dreams pushing the lines of reality. Hallucinations and manufactured memories were what were turning her sleep into a beautiful embrace and terrible torment.

Then of course there was the gun. The dull trigger click, the metallic scent of gun powder and the cold calculating eyes of Marcus March, all of which made her want to scream when she had found herself caught in the cotton webs of limbo strung between wakefulness and slumber. In those nightmares there had been no escape, no hand to hold, no one to stop March from continuing to shoot, from torturing and taunting. In those nightmares there had been no escape—till somehow, someway her mind had broken free and she was saved. Sometime in the throes of the worst the inner demons were pushed away and she could rest, could sleep without the fear and without the oppression.

She was fairly certain someone had taken up her guard.

"Well, look who's awake! How are you feeling Dr. Cameron?" a bubbly nurse came in the door.

Cameron smiled wearily; "I'm…I'm alright," she sat up adjusting the covers, "I would love something to eat though."

"Sure, is there anything else I can do to help you feel more comfortable?" the nurse systematically checked the IV and bandages making notes on the chart.

"Actually if you could ask Dr. Cuddy or Dr. Wilson to come by when they have a chance I'd appreciate it…" _and maybe a toothbrush_, she thoughtfully added as she ran her tongue around her dry mouth.

"Of course dear, I believe Dr. Cuddy is doing her rounds right now so I'll just grab her." The nurse replaced Cameron's chart at the end of the bed and headed out to find Cuddy.

Cameron shuttered involuntarily, she was extremely cold. It was an odd, it was a to the bone kind of cold. It was a kind of cold that thin scratchy hospital linens just couldn't ward away.

Cameron pulled away the blanket and her gown so she could look at the stitches in her abdomen. The hole was mending and the scar would be small but at the moment her flesh was angry and red the bruising spanning the width of both her hands. They were purple, blue and rimmed in faint green. She sucked in a breath.

"The bruises will fade."

Cameron jumped, yanking down her gown and blanket. Cuddy approached her bed.

"I know—I'm a doctor," her voice shook just a fraction but she steadied it, set her jaw. "I know."

Cuddy held the younger woman's gaze studying her. She nodded accepting. "Cameron—Allison, I know you've been told what happened as far as your injuries but I think maybe we need to talk about what happened after you were shot, after you blacked out…" Cuddy pulled a chair to the bedside.

Cameron blinked, it wasn't an okay…but it wasn't a no either.

"The police have been waiting to talk with you but between Wilson and me we've been able to hold them at bay. I need…I need to know how you are going to answer their questions." Cuddy tried to chose her words carefully.

"Questions about what exactly?" Cameron lifted an eyebrow.

"Well two things—your…well relationship with March for one…"

"And the other?"

"Why House would nearly kill March because he shot you…"

Cameron couldn't breathe. She gasped for air much like a fish above water, her chest constricted and her vision started to blur. "What?" She gripped the bedrail.

"Oh no…" Cuddy blinked, "You didn't know…Oh Cameron…" Cuddy quickly tried grasping for words, for an explanation. "I just assumed someone had already told what happened after you…after you blacked out..."

"Well they didn't!" Cameron's chest heaved with labored breaths.

"Okay, okay—you need to calm down and I'll explain okay? But you are going to pull stitches if you aren't careful…" Cuddy stood examining the gauze on Cameron's neck for any new blood.

Cameron suffered through the exam eyes watering; the pain was going back to sharp and pulsing. "Tell me," she demanded soon as Cuddy pulled away.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

Cameron swallowed. She remembered pain, she remembered leather…she remembered House's kisses…but of those three only the pain was real.

"I remember being pushed into the OR—at least I think that is where I was going…But nothing before that—I blacked out after the first shot." She remembered grabbing his hand. She remembered him telling her it was okay.

"Okay." Cameron wished Cuddy would quit saying 'okay'; nothing about this was 'okay'. "After March shot you the second time there was confusion…House stopped March with his cane while Foreman and Chase went to get help…" Cuddy didn't know how to explain. "House put March in the ICU with severe injuries…"

Cameron couldn't speak, she stared then she shook her head in disbelief. "He did that, really?"

"He did—question is why?"

Cameron frowned. "Are you saying I'm not worth fighting for? What should he have done, just let March continue to shoot me?"

"That's not what I meant at all—don't be ridiculous."

"What do you mean then?"

"I only meant that… He didn't just stop March—he beat him…As if…as if, well as if House might have more feelings for you than just an employee…"

"Well I can assure you that there is nothing going on between House and me…" Cameron frowned.

"I'm not saying that I would disapprove…I mean he is your boss—and he's a jerk, but if there were something going on—I wouldn't be opposed, I just need to know so I can prepare his attorney."

Cameron grew frustrated. "There is nothing going on! Nothing, not one single thing, believe me, he doesn't like me! We're not involved even one iota and I know that he has no desire to be."

Cuddy caught this, caught it and latched on. "But you do?"

Cameron silently cursed her slip of speech. "Doesn't matter what I desire, all that matters is the fact that House and I aren't really even friends." It was cold and it was a lie, at least on her end. She valued him, ranked him as friend—whether he did, well that was another matter all together.

"Okay—okay Cameron, I believe you." She didn't. Cameron had feelings for House, she wasn't deaf, dumb or blind and it wasn't like she hid it. House was better guarded with his interest but there wasn't really any denying it after he spent the night in a chair by her bed. But Cuddy was pretty sure if Cameron didn't know about the beating she didn't know about the night vigil—those were beans she wasn't going to spill.

Cameron pressed her thumb and index finger against the lids of eyes trying to stop the sudden tears.

"Now…how about March, what's your…well what's your connection?" Cuddy tried to ask the question gently but it was evident by Cameron's face that no matter how she asked it Cameron's reaction would have been the same—disgust.

"There is no connection. We saw each other out of the hospital twice—that was it. I helped him find a support group and I haven't seen him since."

Cuddy nodded at Cameron's adamant answer. "Alright—so I assume you have no idea why he would want to shoot you?"

Cameron gasped, "No I don't know! Don't you think I would have said so if I did? I have no idea, none…I would really love to know why he came in and shot me—why he tried to killed me…I mean do you know? I would love to know… I would love to have an answer…" she sputtered trying to breathe but found herself hyperventilating instead.

"Cameron…" Cuddy was standing helping Cameron to bend forward and regain some of the air she lost.

Cameron shook her head pushing away Cuddy signaling her that she was okay."I..I would really like to see House…"

Cuddy solemnly nodded. "I'll tell him."

Cameron nodded her thanks.

* * *

** Just a quick little note, the next chapter might be a little longer in coming, I've got a lot of work to do this week and four still needs a little clean up :-) Thanks for reading and your reviews rock! Lots of Love, RA**


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

"She wants to see you." House didn't bother looking up from his Gameboy. "And?" 

"Quit playing House—this isn't a game."

"Who said it was?" he volleyed back attention still on Donkey Kong feet propped on the edge of his desk.

"You aren't going to convince me you're apathetic about this—I found you at her bedside this morning remember? You put March in the ICU…You bellowed at the police…House you threatened her surgeon because you didn't think he was suturing correctly!"

House sat up putting his game on his desk. "I don't think I was trying to sell you on apathetic, I don't think I've been trying to convince you of anything in way of my feelings for Cameron."

"Then why your flippant answer?"

"Cameron asked for me, big whoop just wait a second I'll jump up and run to her! Hell, give me five and I might even be able scare up a tear!"

"House…" Cuddy started crossing her arms.

"What? Dammit what do you want from me Cuddy?" House stood. "What, tell me? I mean I tried to do the whole caring thing, I went to see her and she sent me out of the room! I went to see her because I'm her employer and therefore in some small way—I mean really you and your poor excuse for security let him into the building—feel some culpability for her. I expended that responsibility by my visiting her—I'm done. Fulfilled my obligation she refused."

"Don't give me that crap. She was shot for petesake, she gets a pass, she gets as many passes as she can possible use! She's going through hell and for whatever reason she wants to see you. I'm sorry she hurt your ego the first time but you need to get over it and go see her before she gets over you…" she held up a hand, "Don't argue with me on this—She for reasons beyond my comprehension cares about you, I'm not saying you have to return her feelings, though I think you do, you can't afford to lose anyone who genuinely cares because I don't know if you know this or not but you aren't that loveable.

"Go see her now—she needs you."

"I'm not her father." He glared.

"Thank goodness for that because you having thing for her would be disgusting not to mention illegal." Cuddy didn't wait for him to retort or argue; she gave a meaningful look/glare then sashayed out the door.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"I'm sorry Dr. Cameron, I've paged him five times, he isn't answering."

Cameron was crestfallen but did a bang-up job of hiding it. "Well I'm sure he is very busy…"

"I'm sure," the nurse agreed giving a sympathetic smile as she wheeled the dinner tray away.

Cameron closed her eyes, everything was insane…everything was upside down and backwards and she had driven away House and she really wanted to see him. She was exhausted, she hurt and she couldn't quit wanting to cry.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"You ass," Wilson slammed House's door.

"Okay, someone forgot their Zoloft…" House turned down Paul McCartney's Figure of Eight.

"You refused to see Cameron?!" Wilson was struggling not to yell.

"How is that any of your business? I don't think it is, but since I'm feeling affable I'll let it go."

"Explain to me how you can beat a man, terrorize the hospital with your demands for priority care, which she was already getting I might add …Explain to me how you can sit all night at her bedside yet refuse to see her…" Wilson paced.

"Cuddy really needs to learn how to keep her trap shut…" House glared.

"You can pretend you don't care about her, I'll go along, and I'll even help you lie to yourself if you want me to — I'm your friend, but damned if I will stand by and let you maliciously hurt Cameron."

"Wow, everybody is suddenly the biggest advocate of the littlest duckling; but in case you haven't noticed o gallant hero—salvation is your style, not mine."

"Avoidance, I forgot, that's your style."

There was silence for a beat. "You're still here and see I thought that remark was a departing shot—my bad."

"Do you love Cameron?" Wilson folded his arms watching House carefully.

House mimicked the actions.

"Well do you?"

Still House was silent but Wilson caught a slight change in the masked face.

"You do! You love Cameron!"

House's gaze flicked, it couldn't hold Wilson's and it was then, for certain he knew without a shadow of a doubt House loved Cameron, not only that because frankly Wilson and everyone else in the hospital hand a pretty good inkling, but House knew he loved Cameron and that, was huge.

"You love Cameron and because you can't remember the last time you really felt vulnerable because of a woman you can't face her! This isn't because she threw you out of the room, it's because you're afraid if she sees you she'll see everything you can't hide!" Wilson actually laughed in amazement.

"Glad you find this amusing."

Wilson shook his head, "I do, I do find this amusing, not that she was shot obviously but the fact you are acting like a love sick teenager…that is amusing."

House glared but still it couldn't meet Wilson's eyes, the sneer was directed just over Wilson's shoulder.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

House still hadn't come by the next morning. Cameron tried not to think about it, tried not to think about what she had done. She had pushed him away, she had tried for so long to get him to show even the tiniest bit of concern and when he finally does what does she do? She pushes him away. And why? Because she had a damn hallucination, it was stupid—it was childish.

She would be going home today which she was desperately glad for, she was ready to be out of the hospital, away from House, away from the office where everything got so FUBAR…she snickered to herself at the fact her mind had used the acronym, she cursed, not with great affinity but she wasn't a prude yet she still shuddered using the 'f word', it was just so vulgar. Perhaps these random thoughts were signs she was creeping closer back to normalcy—or probably closer to truth, closer to insanity.

"Okay Dr. Cameron, Cuddy has signed your discharge papers so come 11:30 you're out of here," the young handsome Nurse Travis grinned coming in with a bottle of pain killers, a bottle of antibiotics and a paper with the mandatory do's, and don'ts and the time and date of her appointment to get the stitches out.

"Great—I think that I am going take a shower once you take the IV out, get it done with." Cameron talked absently as Travis started to unhook the interventions drip.

"Okay, would you like me to get a female nurse to come give you a hand…" he put a cotton ball on the vein of her right hand where the needle had been.

"Let me guess, you would want to watch?" Cameron tried to playfully flirt but it didn't really work.

"No, I'm not a voyeur," Travis checked over the bandages one more time, a warm grin bringing out delicious dimples.

"You're male; I think it comes with the territory and the extra testosterone. But no, really I'm fine, thanks for the concern though. I'm a doctor, I know how much I can push before I do harm."

"If you're sure?" Travis didn't look like he was.

"I am." Cameron urged him to go. She was ready to be clean, to be rid of the grime that hung on her. She had the outlandish idea that if she could just get under a hot stream of water and just scrub with a bit of soap she could be rid of the last few days.

She felt slightly woozy as she stood but brushed it off. Her back ached, but she was sure it was being in bed so long. She grasped the back of her gown closed with one hand then gingerly worked her way to the bathroom pale pink surgical scrubs pilfered by Travis in hand.

It is commonly known that hospital room bathrooms are small, white, coated in rubber and smell like latex dust and ammonia. But what is slightly less known, unless you have been a patient, is that these hospital bathrooms are the closest thing to heaven that can possibly be conceived.

She turned the water on and was one step closer to paradise.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

House retrieved his last set of clean clothes from his office gym bag; he would have to go home tonight.

"Are you still behaving like a child?" Wilson appeared in the office doorway.

"If by that you mean am I still refusing to visit Cameron then yes—I am still acting like a child."

"She is going home this afternoon and I think you are risking more than you realize if you let her go without seeing her. She is likely your last chance at any sort of real relationship."

"Do you ever get tired of sounding like a girl?" House refused to let it be a big deal.

"Make this a joke, pretend you don't want to have a relationship with her, tell yourself you think nothing more of her than 'lobby art' and don't care what you tell yourself just go see her." Wilson flexed his hands in frustration. He knew that no amount of arguing or reason would change House's mind, the doctor was more stubborn than a mule, so with a disgruntled sigh he stalked out.

House glared at nothing in particular, just for the fun of it. Chase and Foreman were in the clinic, Cuddy had sent them home, but they came back, apparently they couldn't keep their minds busy either.

He could only see Cameron's face, her wide terrified eyes as she lay bleeding into the carpet…he heard her voice gasping his name…her hand clinging to his. He couldn't get it out of his mind, he couldn't close his eyes, he couldn't banish the image.

Begrudgingly he lumbered to his feet, he didn't have to tell her he cared, he didn't have to show her—but he did have to see her and not for her…but for him.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

Her room was empty and he was almost glad. He was about to leave before she suddenly showed up but he heard a few thuds and a muffled crash.

He froze before dropping his cane moving with four quicker then imaginable steps to the bathroom throwing open the door.

"Cameron!"

She was on the floor back to him, soap in her hair and she shook.

"Cameron?" he demanded half falling to his knees turning her to her side, he braced her as she convulsed.

"Cameron…can you hear me?" he struggled with the rushing water pounding down on them. He held open her eyes looking at her pupils. He reached up as the seizure faded to turn off the water and pull the emergency button.

"Hang on baby…its okay…" He pulled the towel she had hung on the bar and wrapped it around, pulling her to his chest.

She shattered again in his arms. Over and over; he couldn't do anything but hold her, an arm around her back, the other cupping the back of her head, pressing her face into his neck. He squeezed tight his eyes.

They were soaked, he couldn't get up off the floor with her, they could only wait for help.

It seemed like an eternity before a nurse appeared in the room, but when he did he had Wilson, Chase and Foreman in tow. Cameron was taken from him and he couldn't think. The weight was gone and he had a wave of angry protectiveness that was exploding out, he wanted her back.

"What happened? Who was supposed to monitoring her?" House made it to his feet dripping water, voice harder than iron.

Wilson was the only one still in the room, the rest left with Cameron on a gurney.

"Are you okay?" Wilson offered a towel.

House tossed his jacket aside, striding rapidly across the room, water pooling under his Nike's with every step.

"House…"

* * *

_ PostDisclaimer: so, um in case you didn't know this, or guess it all ready, I'm not a doctor, I didn't even really research medical care related to gunshot wounds and I've never had surgery so I pretty much winged it the next chapter will also contain medical stuff that I have very little clue about LOL. If the medicine was a key plot point I would have researched more but it kinda takes a back seat here so I hope you don't mind terribly. Thank you so much for reading!! RA _


	5. Chapter 5

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"House…"

"Go away Wilson."

"It won't fix anything."

"Maybe not but I'll feel a hell of a lot better," House stood back to Wilson waiting for the elevator.

"If you go up there you will be violating a restraining order and whatever you plan on doing will likely kill him and murder won't help Cameron."

"I won't kill him—how can I make him suffer if he's dead? Death is too good for him."

The elevator arrived and House entered.

"Don't do this House…think about Cameron, about what it would do to her to have you in jail! She needs you, physically she'll heal but she is going to have an uphill battle to mend emotionally." Wilson rode the elevator with House.

"You are just looking for a release—a way to get rid of your anger, your frustration, turmoil—hate, your fear! You can't be stupid…"

"Get off the elevator James." House looked at the floor, the elevator stopped at the floor below the ICU.

"Don't do this House…" The elevator closed in the face of Wilson

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

Cameron laid in her bed caught in a thick dream. She was cold and grasped at the blanket wrapped around her. Her dream was foggy, she felt lost, she was being chased. No one was there to save her—to protect her from the wolves at her heels.

"Need to wake up dearie…time to eat something!"

Cameron was jerked awake by a nurse's hand on her arm.

"Didn't mean to startle you, but doctor's orders were to get you awake and eating."

Cameron breathed quickly trying to piece the events together, "What...what happened?" the last thing she remembered was going to take a shower.

"Well let's see…" the older woman, Cameron didn't recognize bustled the bed tray over then proceeded to help her sit up, rearranging the pillows behind her.

Cameron saw a plastic cup with a lid and felt sudden bliss—she was desperately thirsty. She grasped the cup taking a long gulp. She made a face at the taste.

"Aloe Vera juice, doctor's orders…but I'm getting ahead of myself. You were in the shower when your fever spiked causing you to go into septic shock. Your doctor came in about that time, heard you fall. Evidently you were burning up and shaking something terrible, turns out you had a kidney infection which caused blood poisoning! Which is why you are having aloe vera juice, though I don't really know why you need it with all the antibiotics you're on…I don't understand why the antibiotics you were on after surgery didn't knock it actually…"

"It's different. Blood infection, surgery—different drugs." She rambled off before even thinking. It would have to be a severe infection to trigger it.

"Can I see Dr. Cuddy?"

The nurse looked confused, "Dr. Cuddy went home early this morning, after she signed your discharge papers."

Cameron frowned, "Okay, then who has been treating me?"

"Dr. House. Matter of fact he left this room not twenty minutes ago, after your fever broke," the nurse paused thoughtfully, "I would guess he will be back anytime...he hasn't left your side for a minute!"

Cameron swallowed, "Who found me in the shower?"

"Dr. House."

Cameron closed her eyes.

"I'll be back to check on you in a little while alright?"

Cameron nodded. The nurse didn't wait for a reaction but finished with whatever tasks, she was doing which Cameron just didn't care about or take notice of, she didn't even hear the nurses parting comment.

She looked up at the clock on the wall, it was after nine, she had been out for eleven hours. She felt sticky, no doubt because of the fever, she also felt dry inside, no doubt dehydrated. She felt her face, it felt even to own account slightly gaunt, her eyes felt sunken and her lips were dryer then the Sahara. She didn't' even want to know what she must look like.

And House had found her in the shower. She was a mix of relief, at least he had come to see her and horror, he had found her in the shower. Putting her head in her hands she geared up to cry, but the dry heaving sobs staid locked inside, she couldn't even muster the effort.

She jumped when she heard distinctive heavy steps with that just barely noticeable lagging third step. Her breath caught as the door opened. She changed her mind; she didn't want to see him anymore.

"You're awake I see," House ambled to the end of the bed picking up the chart.

Cameron couldn't answer. He voice was rough; his suit was rumpled—more so than usual. His beard was thicker than the normal day stumble, his eyes were dull, not keen as they usually were—it was obvious that he was exhausted, her stomach knotted.

"The nurse told me I have a kidney infection."

House looked up from the chart, "Yep."

"It explains that backache I've had for the last couple weeks…"

House snapped the chart closed, "Do you have a history of kidney infections?" he demanded.

She frowned, "When I was younger."

"Why wasn't it in your medical history? Don't you think that would have been, oh I don't know, a point of interest? You're a doctor, how could you forget to note a history of something like that?"

"I was twelve the last time I had a serious one!."

"Dammit Cameron, you can't leave details out like!"

"I didn't mean to! House I didn't not mention the fact I've had infections in the past to mess with you, if I had had any idea that I was have problems again I would have dealt with it. I made a mistake, it's been nearly three years since I filled out my medical profile here…it slipped my mind."

"Do you know how dangerous it would have been to send you home not knowing you had an infection this bad—you could have been in the shower at home when you went into shock, you could have fallen hit your head…it could have been days before someone found you! Our patients could die—have died because they leave something out that seems simple, mundane, and unimportant—we know why they do it, they're stupid, they're not doctors—you are!"

She stared; he was now pacing her room face angry.

"House I…I didn't know I was having a reoccurrence, I should have, but I just didn't see it…But I'm okay—you found me, I'm okay."

He stilled. "But what if I hadn't?"

"But you did and that's what matters. You found me—you saved me."

House's chin dropped a fraction, he couldn't look at her.

"House…Cuddy told me what happened." No further explanation was needed.

"I couldn't stop him till it was too late."

"You stopped him before he killed me. Your timing was perfect."

"He shot you Cameron—twice; I hardly call that perfect timing." He was firm, his tone, his eyes, he would not break.

"House, you stepped in, you stopped him…" she wanted him to look up.

"Cameron—" he met her eyes, he said nothing more than her name, but it was all it took.

She said his name, but it had no sound, if was just her lips forming the letters. She saw everything that he couldn't—or wouldn't say. She felt the tears start. "Why didn't you say something sooner?" she whispered hoarsely.

He sniggered, "Yeah that would have been so like me, going all mushy like soggy cotton candy." His sarcasm was thick, but underneath, just on the edge was tenderness, a true warmth.

"I like cotton candy…and as I remember it so do you…" she smiled up at him, that was a memory that was real…and it was better than false memories by a hundred times over.

He grinned slightly, "You also like to race cripples, and I think you liked the monster trucks too…"

"Hmm, I did like monster trucks, but not as much as I just liked spending that time with you."

"Now, I think you're lying, I'm a grouchy old man—no one likes spending time around me, it's a fact—they've done studies—called them 'fellowships' but I know the truth…" he kept up the bravado moving to the side of the bed, lowering the bed rail and sitting on the edge.

She shook her head, if there was anything good to come out of her hallucination it would be this, this fact was made all the more real to her, she didn't want fantasy House, didn't care that he would never waltz her to some jazz club and say sweet nothings in her hair, she truly wanted him just the way he was. "I like you House, you know that, I've said it enough."

"Yeah you have," he tilted his head thoughtfully, "I like hearing it though…" he played arrogant but if there had been truth in his tone it would have been surprised realization. He did like hearing it, he needed to hear it—his day was nothing but crappy till she somehow reaffirmed her devotion whether with words or action.

"Thank you—for what you did," Cameron dropped the playful act,

House stiffened. "I am really glad you're okay…" he softened.

"House…do you…I mean…could you just say it, once?" she bit her lip, she didn't want to ask, she really was okay with just the knowing look he had allowed her to see, but she desperately wanted to him to say it—just once.

"Cameron…I…don't, not like you."

She was ready to smile but instead found herself frowning. "What in the hell is that?"

House's laugh burst. "I like you Cameron, I like you a whole lot, you'd think you'd get it by now. Mean what's a guy got to do to impress you? Maybe I'll get a club—learn to grunt, I hear that whole he-man super macho thing is in right now…"

And like a true flood everything that had piled onto her the last few days broke the dam and flowed out in a mighty rush instead of a paltry trickle.

She cried, she laughed, gasped and she sputtered. She drew breaths like she couldn't get enough—she was just one step away from looking like a padded room escapee.

"I knew I was good, but I have never gotten this much a reaction from a woman before…" he half joked, he didn't know what to do with her, so he did what he had seen done with distraught women, he hugged her.

And so it was, no jazzy music, no out pouring of sentiment and love yet it was deeper somehow—it was more. She laid her head on a shoulder she never dreamed of ever claiming, she felt arms wrapped around her that she knew had defended her, hands that had calmed her in her nightmares. She knew the identity of her once faceless, nameless guard. It was him, he was safety, and he was salvation. He was her fallen warrior angel. He was her other half that she had been searching so long for.

Her tears were wetting his shirt, but he didn't care. She was rushing the touchdown line and he had no desire, or open player to block her she had knocked down or dodged every single attempt, and yet—he didn't care. He was falling without a shoot, the air was rushing in his ears—he didn't mind. He had taken a step, never mind that like all his other steps which were awkward and begrudging trod, he had taken it and it was an irreversible step which was too exhausting, too complicated—too damn welcome, to actually take back. He liked the weight of her, and that was unusual, he normally took pride in the fact that the traveled light. He liked that she needed him and had before made it his mission to make sure he never got close enough to be depended on—because he knew that the next step was depending on them. She hung onto him, and he liked that.

When the tears had finally dried Cameron still didn't pull away, she turned her cheek to his shoulder and breathed a long expelling sigh. She smiled when he didn't pull back.

* * *

**Coming Next: Part 2: Gregory House vs. the State of New Jersey**

_So, when originally planning this story I didn't plan of developing the March plot—don't ask me why, now that I've written the story it seems rather critical LOL. So anyway, I'm toiling on Part 2, I'm not actually entirely sure where I'm going to take it so while I hope the updates won't be too far between, they could be slower then these of recent have been. Thank you so much to all the readers and reviewers, that you've taken so much to this story makes me grin and want to do a happy dance! With much, much love, RaeAnne_


	6. PART 2, Chapter 1

**Part 2:  
Gregory House vs. the State of New Jersey**

_Really, what we want now, is not laws against crime, but a law against insanity.  
Mark Twain_

"House you aren't taking her home on your bike! No way, I'm not letting you even take her out of this hospital!" Cuddy forced through clenched teeth."

"I am sitting right here you know—" Cameron spoke up.

Cuddy looked down to the patient in the wheel chair House was pushing.

"You can't go home on the motorcycle; your stitches won't take it."

"She's a big girl, I think she knows what she can handle." House broke in, though he did think it was kind of fun watching them banter.

"She's on three painkillers and broad-spectrum antibiotics! She probably feels like she could ride horses with Genghis Khan!"

"Still here…you know."

"Well cool, the Honda is a steel stead that has a way better ride than good ole' Khan's painted ponies."

"House," Cuddy and Cameron over lapped each other.

"What?"

Cameron tipped her head up rolling her eyes at him then looked at Cuddy, "We're taking the 'vette, not the bike."

"Spoilsport, she makes that nasty Cruella Deville face when she's pissed." House muttered.

"House! I'm still standing right here!" Cuddy scoffed.

"See how it feels?" Cameron waved a hand.

Cuddy looked at her but addressed House, "So I'll call Cameron at your place if I need to reach her, correct?"

"What? No, I'm staying at my house—House is just taking me home."

"But I thought—?" Cuddy looked confused.

"So did I," House stopped pushing the wheelchair through the lobby.

"I'm fine, I don't need a babysitter."

Cuddy and House exchanged looks.

"Stop it, really I'm fine."

"We're not talking just physically…" Cuddy said lowly, "You haven't really talked about March…about what happened."

"What would you like me to say about it that I haven't already?" Cameron strove not to be defensive.

"Never mind, but won't you consider staying with someone, even if it isn't House?"

"I don't…" Cameron started to argue but it sunk in, House was not only willing that she stay with him, but he wanted her to. That was kind of, well, enormous. "Okay, but only if you're sure you don't mind having me stay House." They hadn't exactly fleshed out what their relationship was—but apparently they had something that required a name since Cuddy was already referencing it, albeit abstractly.

"I just assumed that you were and hey I'm cool with that."

For House, that was not only good but as good as it would ever get, and she was okay with that.

"Alright, well yes, I guess you were right, you will be able to reach me at Houses'" Cameron directed.

Cuddy smiled approvingly as House wheeled Cameron out. She thought they were good together, complete opposites sure but they were right together, they were complete together. Maybe she would rub off, warm him up but even if she didn't, at least she could be his conscious. He, well he could teach her how to be a damn good diagnostician and as Cuddy had been witness to once upon a time, he knew how to love a woman wholly, how to be devoted completely, just because Stacy couldn't do the same for him didn't mean anything. If Cameron could help him become that man again she would be a deliriously happy woman. They were would be good for each other…if they didn't kill each other first that is.

"So, how do you think those two are going to fare?" Wilson came up on Cuddy just as the automatic doors closed on House and the patient.

"Honestly, I haven't a clue—but they are good together," she breathed with a smile.

"Better than us?" Wilson asked nudging her shoulder with his, flashing his coy little boy smile.

Cuddy blushed laughing to cover embarrassment. "No, not better than us."

Wilson smirked stepping close enough to her that their bodies touched, "Are you ready to get out of here?"

"Oh yes," she turned her head to his shoulder resting it there for just a brief moment. They didn't do PDA's and certainly not at work but after the last four days, she just didn't care anymore.

Wilson put an arm around her loosely, it wasn't often that Cuddy let her guard down, even out of the workplace she wore the armor of the business woman but Wilson was a patient man and when she did shed the Dean of Medicine skin she was all woman and an amazing, soft, gentle, giving compassionate woman at that.

"Come on, let's go to my place, I'll make you a chocolate soufflé." Wilson kissed the top of her head, she laughed faintly into the cloth of his lab coat.

"With raspberry sauce?"

"Of course."

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Now don't overdo it—you pull those stitches and I am sewing you up with an upholstery needle and damn butchers twine…" House reprimanded as he helped Cameron out of the passenger side of the '65 corvette.

"I don't want to pull them any more then you want to fix them, but I don't want to sleep in your car—it's a nice car, but what if it rained...I would get wet…I don't like to be wet…"

"You're going loopy on me Cameron…let's keep it together till we get inside alright?" House took her arm.

"You know…I think the meds are kicking in…" she giggled leaning more on House.

"You don't say—what happy pills are you taking anyway? …Hey not so much weight, I'm a cripple you know, I can't carry you!"

"You smell really _really _good and your beard tickles," she giggled as she pressed into his chest, face against his neck.

"Zero to lush in ten minutes, you're good." He fumbled with his keys trying to get them in the lock of his door, it would have been easier without the giggling girl and the three bags from the pharmacy, but he was talented.

"I'm not lunch…"

"Lush, not lunch, lush as in a drunk."

"I don't drink…" she frowned.

"Never mind."

They finally tumbled into the apartment with little bodily harm. "Sit on the couch," House instructed gruffly. Cameron sat happily; she sat and started to examine his coasters which sat on the coffee table. She never pictured him using coasters, which he didn't, they were left over from Wilson's stay, if she had seen the film of dust she would have known that, but she saw not much more than stars—which made her giggle.

"Gees Cameron—I'd hate to see you really drunk, you must be the life of the party!" House grumbled limping back into the living room finding her on her back marble coaster in hand which she moved closer to her face then backed it up looking completely enthralled.

"It looks like outer space…like the milky way…" she said dreamily.

"Come on Valentina Tereshkova, let's get you in bed…" He awkwardly pulled her up.

"Who?" she mumbled leaving the black and white coaster on the couch.

"First woman in space…"

"I know who she is…but I'm not Russian…you shoulda called me Sally Drive…she's American"

"Ride."

"Ride what?"

"Huh?" House was too focused on getting her to walk straight to follow the conversation.

"House," she looked at him intently.

"Yes Cameron?' he huffed pulling the blankets and sheets back on the bed but paused to look at her.

"I'm hungry."

"Nice to meet you Hungry, now get in bed."

"I'm not tired."

"Don't care. Get in."

"No,"

"Stop acting like you're two."

"No."

"Fine you're hungry; I'll fix you some pudding if you get in bed." He had no idea how a thirty two year old woman could suddenly transform to a babbling preschooler in a period of a half an hour. It just didn't make sense.

"Do you have butterscotch?" she asked sweetly climbing into the gray adorned bed.

He wanted to say she would get whatever friggin' flavor he had on the shelf, but decided against it. "I'll see what I can do."

She nodded satisfied with that snuggled down into the bed sighing contently.

House shook his head taking back up his cane, he hardly ever used it around the house but his legging was absolutely refusing to even cooperate in the slightest.

In the kitchen he searched the cupboards, and found himself humming Ole Mother Hubbard. He rounded up three catsup packets from Burger King, a honey packet from KFC and half a carton of soon to be expired milk.

With his treasures lined up on the counter he weighed his options. All ended with Cameron contracting food poisoning which he was pretty sure wasn't a good thing. He could go to the store but everything about that made him frown, Cameron should not be left alone and soccer moms with bratty soccer kids shopping on the weekend made him violent.

He was left with all dreaded 'borrow from the neighbors'; this was possibly the scariest of the three choices. He made a point not to involve himself with the 'others', he actually liked to try and pretend they didn't exist. But when that didn't work he classified them. In the apartment across from him were 'The Idiots'. They were a family of three, mother, father and bratty can't-believe-this-spawn of satan-is-the-future, youth. The mother was a New Ager who did all sorts of incense burning and whatever other 'eating the sun' things those types did. The father was a want to be hippie, though he missed the marijuana train by ten years, he wore his hair long, wore polyester bell bottoms with the polyester mix wide collared shirts. He was also a CPA. These people were The Idiots.

In the unit on the left were 'The Morons'. A baby boomer couple who were heavy involved politically, House was pretty sure they were ultra, ultra liberals. He didn't have a problem with this, he figured they could do and believe what ever in the hell they wanted, didn't matter to him. It was when they staged rallies in the street, taped leaflets to his bike, and held conspiracy parties all night which always involved retired hippies (the real ones, unlike Mr. Idiot) yelling and Puffing the Magic Dragon, which he wouldn't mind—if they shared. The Moron's could have just as easily been the Insane-Paranoid-Borderline-Schizophrenics, but The Moron's just fit better, rolled off the tongue easier.

As for the other people, he hadn't got that far, he just avoided like the plague. But the question now was which of the two would be most likely to have butterscotch pudding?

Upon preponderance of the evidence the scale tipped heavily in the favor The Moron's. While The Idiots did have the kid thing going for them, House had been around for the cannabis epidemic thus knowing the lure of pudding to the emphatic user of said hallucinogenic.

He rapped on the door waiting for an answer. He heard a fan start up and the distinct slide of a window, he had a pretty good idea what was going on.

"Can I help you?" Donned in sunglasses Mrs. Moron appeared in the doorway speaking through a crack.

"I'm Greg House, I live next door…"

"Right, you're the jerk who called the cops on us last week."

He had forgotten about that. "Right…" he looked at her with furrowed brows, "So, um, do you have any pudding—preferably butterscotch that I could borrow?"

"Why?" she crossed her arms tone skeptical.

What does she expect me to do with pudding? House wondered with a mental sarcastic huff, "My girlfriend had surgery and wants pudding, I don't have pudding and I don't want to leave her alone." It was mostly truth, sort of.

Mrs. Moron surveyed him as if trying to tell if he was telling the truth, it did seem highly unlikely that any woman would want to be anywhere near Mr. Better-Than-Everyone else-Self Righteous-Narcissistic-Bastard, but Mrs. Moron, being a believer in love, peace, and that for every village idiot there had to be a Mrs. Idiot. "Wait here." She closed the door disappearing for a minute.

"Here, because any woman who can put up with you deserves pudding," she thrust a box of cook-n-serve butterscotch pudding.

"Thanks…" he took the box.

She nodded and closed the door.

Maybe they weren't such morons after all.

* * *

_Okay, I have no idea where the Cuddy/Wilson thing came from…I was just writing and BAM, suddenly there it was…and now that I look back I think I was unconsciously gearing up for it from the beginning…which is how their relationship comes when I'm writing I've found LOL, not even really thinking about it but then suddenly it's there—and it feels right! If only that would happen on the show, I think they're fabulous together :-)_


	7. PART 2, Chapter 2

House went into the bedroom with a cup of still warm butterscotch pudding. Cameron was sprawled in the middle of the bed snoring. He could only shake his head and leave the pudding on the nightstand along with a glass of water—he would have left her pills but decided against it, he thought it might be better if he monitored a little closer her dosage.

Returning to the living room he settled on the couch feet on the table, the remaining pudding in hand and a plan formulating in his head.

What would be his first move? He had to make it soon; Cuddy was shoving the damned attorney Victoria Didn't-Giving-A Flying-You-Know-What down his throat. He would not go to trial that was just assbackwards. But he was dealing with congress, a bunch of lying, cheating self righteous assholes.

He pulled a bottle of scotch, sans butter, from under his couch as he finished the pudding. He took a pull straight from the bottle, no time for niceties, he was thinking—intently.

A course of action was knitting together quite wonderfully…he had two aces stuck in his pocket and he intended to play them. One was Congressman Gary H Wright, he saved his life, bummer the dude didn't make president but never the less House thought that having this little nugget had to be good. Second was, well it was sitting in his parking space in the apartment garage across the street; well actually it was the physical representation of the aforementioned second thing that sat in the garage space across the street. The thing parked in the garage? His 1965 cherry red Corvette convertible, the thing it represented, his connection to the Jersey Mob—and House just _knew _that had to be a connection that would benefit him. Hell, if Joey's brother couldn't dig up useful intel then he had to know someone who could locate or manufacture a neat set of concrete boots.

Getting a hold of Wright would be pretty easy, looking up Joey & Co might be a little trickier but he was pretty sure he knew a place.

So he had acquired his back up ammunition, if it should come to that. He wasn't sure what the first officially step would be. The police had yet to formally question him or call him to the precinct. There was still Cameron's official story to be given, that call would surely come in the next day or so. Then he was sure there would be a calm before the storm. The police would go over their evidence at the prompting of someone from Keelson's camp, they wouldn't have reason or cause to charge him, but Keelson would pull who knew what strings to get the cops to up their game. It would be a full blown battle then.

But now…now it was a waiting game…and as he pulled another long swallow from his bottle, a drinking game.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

House checked in on Cameron and found her still fast asleep and snoring but this time he didn't leave her, he actually found the situation quite appealing. Exhausted he stripped down to his boxers and t-shirt and climbed into the bed gingerly rolling her to her side of bed which she had apparently thought was the middle.

He closed his eyes and found himself listening for her breathing and mentally checking if it sounded shallow, deep, quick or steady…then he found himself just listening because he craved it, because it soothed him. He hadn't laid awake listening to a woman just breathe in years…come to think of it, he can't remember ever laying awaking listening to a woman breathe, not even Stacy.

He opens his eyes again and turns to observe her outlined form. He runs his hand just above the outline of her; she's sleeping on her side. He wants to touch her, to feel her, to ground her because at this moment even though he can feel her warmth from where he lays she seems a million miles away. He needs to touch her, to have her against himself—he needs her weight.

"Hmmm," she groans as she feels her body being shifted, she sighs again as she feels her pillow rearrange it's self. "House…" she mumbles his name turning slightly.

He smiled brushing a kiss over her temple, "Go back to sleep," he settles back against his pillows able to sleep now that she's where she belongs, with him. He's in love with her, that's his last thought as he for the first time in days fall into a deep restful sleep.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Congressman Wright, there is a Greg House on line two for you," Jackson Thomas, aide to Congressman Wright came over the office intercom.

"Thank you Jack, I'll take it." Gary picked up the line. "Dr. House, how nice to hear from you."

"Yeah, you're lying but anyway I need your help."

"I cleared up those parking tickets for you six months ago…"

"Yeah, which reminds me that I've got a couple more, but that's not why I called," House shouldered his cell phone as he maneuvered his Corvette through down town Trenton.

"So I suppose that means you still fancy that I'm in your debt…"

"Unless you value your life at 500 dollars I'd say yes."

"It was closer to fifteen hundred but anyway tell me what you need."

"It's kind of a long story, but what can you tell me about Dane Keelson?"

"Well he's a congressman…"

"Well fuck Sherlock, that was something I didn't know…"

"House are you alright?" Gary rose from his desk closing the door the led to the outer office.

"Do I not sound alright?"

"Honestly, you sound a little crazed."

"That could be cause Dr. Cameron, you remember her don't you?"

"Pretty brunette? Of course I remember her."

"Yeah, well the stepson of Keelson shot her…"

"What?"

"What I said."

"I haven't heard anything on the news, there hasn't been anything in the newspapers…"

"You said it yourself, he's a congressman…but what I need from you is information…and his schedule."

"What? What do you need is schedule for and how exactly would you like me to obtain this?" Wright leaned back in his leather executive chair.

"You have an personal assistant, I know I talked to the schmuck, and I'm sure he eats with fellow ass kissing assistant schmucks, have him schmooze them and get his date book."

"Do I want to know what you're going to do with it?" Wright cringed.

"Probably not," House turned into an alley parking lot of an Italian restaurant called Luna Azure.

"Fine, give me a couple days."

"Don't have a couple days; I'll give you 24 hours."

"House you've got to give me something to work with here…why is it such an emergency?"

"The less you know the better off you are."

"You are showing concern for me…it must be bad," Wright scoffed.

"Concern hell yes, but it's not for you, it's concern for me, you're a pawn I just can't afford to lose right now. Just get me my information alright?"

"Okay, but I can't promise anything."

"Just do, I don't ask for promises because really a promise is just a fancy word for 'lie'." House disconnected exiting his car.

The call, as expected came in for Cameron to go down the precinct to give her statement this morning; House had anticipated it so his anger was mild. She made an appointment to go down this afternoon leaving time for House to call in Wilson as a duckling sitter and start off for Trenton. Matters such as these were not ones one to be handled over the phone.

Luna Azure was a family owned and operated Italian restaurant that had been a staple in Trenton since the dawn of time. They were known for their chicken Marsala and their manicotti. Their wine was imported from Piedmont and their olives were handpicked in Sicily and shipped in. The people were wonderfully warm, and entirely Italian, nary an English conversation was shared by the regular costumers. It was known throughout Jersey as the main hub for the Greco crime family.

"Greg House to see Michael Greco," House stated as a way of introduction to the waitress as he entered the building.

The waitress who looked about twenty nodded then turned her glance to the far dark corner booth. She received a nod, "Mr. Greco will see you," she showed him to the cracked vinyl booth.

"Dr. House, I got your message, I hope your emergency isn't dire…" Michael gestured for House to take a seat.

"Actually Mikey it is."

Michael nodded as if he expected as much, "I am sorry to hear that, how can my family help you?"

House fought a shiver, it was just a little too Godfather, a little too damn creepy. "I have a situation which could be greatly benefited by information you—your family could provide."

"I'm listening."

"Do you have anything on a Dane Keelson?" House accepted a glass of Bellini ice tea which was chilled to the point of frost.

"The congressman," Michael gestured his head in such a way as to show he was familiar. "My family does not have a vested interest in him, but I do recall his name coming up in connection with the Rizzo family."

"You mean Keelson is on the take?"

"I am not saying this explicitly, I just said I might have heard his name mentioned, this is all."

"I understand, but what you have to understand is that he is…"

"Trying to get you put in jail—I have heard this."

"What?"

"Marcus March, stepson of Keelson shot a doctor you work with correct?" Michael moved about in the shadows.

"Yes, but Keelson has managed to keep it hushed up…" House leaned against the table.

"From the media, but there isn't much that happens in New Jersey that I am not aware of."

"I'll keep that in mind…Can you help me?" House who wasn't used to asking for help shifted awkwardly in his seat.

"For the man who saved my brother, I can do anything."

"Well before we post a contract what do you say you just tell me what you know…"

"We don't use 'contract' anymore; you've watched too much Godfather I think. We say 'ice someone' or if we're feeling crass we say 'whack someone', 'contract' has just become too much a cliché."

House jaw dropped to his chest.

"But as much as I'd love to tell you all I know, if I did that I'd have to kill you…"

House blinked.

"Sorry, mob humor—but before I get off on too much of a tangent perhaps I should ask you specifically what you would like us do…"

On the tip of House's tongue was 'make it look like a bloody accident' but thankfully that's where it staid. "I have another connection getting Keelson's schedule, when I get that if you could spare…what do you call them, since I figure if 'contract' is out 'solider' must be too…"

"No, solider is still en vogue."

House's eyes widened, "Okay, good to know…If we can get a _solider _to tail Keelson maybe get some dirt…combined that with whatever you might possible get from the Rizzo family we can bury him if it comes to that."

"Sure, we can get an untraceable piece; find a tidy plot out by…" Michael shook his when House coughed, catching ice tea in his throat, "Oh, you did not mean literally bury him…"

"No, I mean get him thrown out of congress; we could maybe find a plot for March though…" House tipped his head thoughtfully.

"We can do anything."

House realized this, and while a strange compulsion came over him to have March go the way of Hoffa he declined, "Let's just hold off on the Tony Soprano thing alright?"

"Forgettaboutit," Michael gave an exaggerated shrug with a wide grin.

"You say I watch too much Godfather, I say you need to lay off the Soprano's…"

"It's a good show, not completely accurate of course, but good entertainment…" Michael draped an arm over the back of booth.

"Sure, now do we have an understanding?" House was ready to get back home, to be out of the restaurant.

"We do, you are a friend of the family Dr. House, and we never forget our friends."

House was unsure if he should feel comforted or horrified. He settled on a mix of both.

"I'll let you know when I get Keelson's agenda alright?" House rose from the table.

"You can if you want, but there is a high probability that I will know even before you do…" Michael grinned.

"Yeah, well for my sanity I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."

Michael shrugged, "Whatever makes you feel better."

* * *

_Just a little note, it's obvious I took a few liberties with the characters in Mob Rules and Role Model; I thought it would be fun to mix in the characters and it seemed impossible to pass-up :-) Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading and as always your reviews are greatly appreciated! Much Love, RA_


	8. PART 2, Chapter 3

"Where did you say House went?"

"He didn't tell you?" Wilson was cleaning up the apartment.

"He just said something about errands in Trenton…" Cameron started to rise from the couch; she could only take watching Wilson clean for so long.

"Sit back down! If House had any idea that I even let you out of the bedroom he'd have my head, now sit down or I'll make you go back to bed…"

Cameron arched her eyebrows at him, but for the moment sat, information was her goal. "Alright, alright…so what errands did he have to do? I never really pictured him running errands, figured that's what he had us for…Sorting his mail, picking up his dry cleaning…"

"House has dry cleaning?" Wilson stood from his stooped position of dusting the bottom shelf of the bookcase.

Cameron blushed, "No, I was just using that as an example…"

"Oh. Well to be honest I have no idea what errands he's running, he just said he needed me to come over here and watch you…"

"What am I going to do a trick? I'm not a little kid; I don't need to be 'watched'."

"Hey, you were shot, you are fighting a kidney infection, you need to rest and from the fact that you are polishing the table while sitting there you do need to watched, saved from yourself."

Cameron dropped the dust rag. "I'm going crazy; I've been stuck in a bed or immobile for five days…"

"You were shot…" Wilson pointed out again.

"I know that! Will people stop saying it! Yes, I was shot, I was shot twice!" Cameron cried out. Hysterics were building in her, her chest was constricting, they just needed to stop saying it…stop talking about it…it needed to go away…she didn't want to think about it…no more…no more.

Wilson came around sitting on the coffee table in front of her. "You need to talk about it, you need to deal with it…it's real, it happened…just because you pretend it didn't…"

"Why are you always pushing me? House doesn't make me talk about it…" her voice shook.

"Yeah because he's House, he'd rather go to the dentist then talk about this kind of stuff you know that…"

"So that means you're taking it upon yourself to talk to me about it?"

"Yes."

"They want me to go down to the police station to give my statement today…" she started slowly.

"You okay with that?"

She bit her lip shrugging, "I guess I have to be…I don't have much choice in the matter."

"People won't—don't expect you to be okay with this; it's okay to be upset…"

She bit biting down on her lip shaking her head in frustration. "I…it's just…" she started but as she felt tears stinging she stopped, squeezing them shut. "What if I saying something wrong…what if what I say looks bad on House?" she forced out in a long ran together sentence.

"Cameron…" Wilson started but was cut off by the front door opening.

"What is she doing out of bed?" House demanded shedding his leather jacket, letting drop on the chair.

"She was tired of lying down—_she _is not an invalid," Cameron folded her arms.

"She had two hunks of metal in her—she is going to march her little hind-end back to bed…" House frowned.

"House…" Wilson's voice said without words 'be nice'.

"I don't want to go to bed," she answered firmly.

"Let's not start this again—you're not getting more pudding, you fell asleep the last time I made you pudding, you ungrateful wench." He beamed at her.

She laughed out loud which successfully banished her tears.

Wilson frowned, he wanted Cameron to open up not suppress it. She needed to deal with what happened, not cover it with fake humor.

"I brought lunch Wilson, it's in the car," House started toward the bathroom.

"Oh, I'll grab it, don't worry," Wilson called a bit irritated at the assumption, not that he wasn't used to this aspect of House's personality, but it was aggravated by the way House was acting in regards to Cameron dealing with being shot.

"What's wrong Wilson?" Cameron picked up on the tension when oblivious House didn't.

"Nothing—nothing is wrong everything is just perfect…" Wilson almost slammed the apartment door.

Cameron blinked, the men were too different—she didn't understand how they remained friends. Breathing a ragged breath she stood from the couch despite the incessant demands that she stay put going to the kitchen to round up place settings for lunch.

She was in the cupboard when she heard the apartment door open and close then open and close again.

"Wilson…?" she called arms loaded with plates, silverware and folded paper towels. There were three bags of obviously Italian food for the aromas wafted deliciously, but no Wilson. She laid her things down on the coffee table heading after Wilson.

"Wilson…where are you going?" barefooted she made it to the edge of the sidewalk; Wilson was almost to his car on the other side of the street.

"I can't do this right now Cameron, I'm sorry, if you need to talk you can call me…"

She tried to call him back but he shook his head getting into the car.

"Okay listen here Cameron, sitting on the couch is one thing, but parading out—where is Wilson going?" House came out just as Wilson's car was turning off the street.

"I don't know…he seemed upset."

"Aw, he's always like that, high strung and all that. Let's eat before it gets cold." He took her by the arm and steered her for the door. She tried to argue that they need to find out what was wrong with Wilson but House firmly shook his head guiding them into the building.

"So what errands did you need to run today?" she looked up at him as they crossed the threshold into his apartment, he shut her down on one thing, he owed this one.

"Oh you know the usual—met with a mobster, got some lunch…the usual."

"Seriously…" she handed him a plate as they sat on the couch.

"I met with that lawyer Vicky What's-Her-Face…" he lied fluently.

"Victoria White?" Cameron scooped a manicotti from the tin container.

"Yeah—Gloria Allred was busy—had a guest spot on Nancy Grace…" he accepting the helping of manicotti but ditched the salad.

"You should eat more vegetables and salad, studies show—"

"Dude, do you even remember when I told you less reading more TV?"

"I'm just saying…"

"Yeah, yeah, nag, nag, nag…" he argued but took half a serving of salad. "But I get to pick what we watch," he grabbed the remote flipping it from the muted Diagnosis Unknown to midget wrestling on Spike.

"That's fine, the show was boring, I knew what was wrong ten minutes into the show—the doctor's were thinking so small scope—they didn't even test for Lupus…"

"What, don't they know it's always Lupus?" House grinned.

"I know!" she smiled.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

The clock showed 2:50 in the afternoon Cameron was due at the police station at 3:00.

"You doing okay?" House made an attempt to sooth her. They were sitting in his car in the parking lot staring at the door.

"Yeah…I'm okay," she nodded.

"Mach won't be there, it's okay…" House realized just how lousy he was at the whole comforting thing.

She bit her lip drawing a shaky breath. "I…I just," she started to open up to him but thought better of it, this was House, you didn't talk about emotional things, about feelings with House—like Wilson said, it just didn't work.

"Just what Cameron…"

What the hell, she thought, she was emotional and if she really wanted to have any kind of relationship with him he'd have to accept her the way she was, just like she accepted him. "I'm afraid that when I go in there I'll say something wrong, that somehow, in some way I will incriminate you, that I will give them motive or cause or something! I don't want to do that, I don't want…House I could not bear it if you…" She clammed up, she couldn't do it.

"Listen to me Cameron—I don't expect you to defend me…I hate that you even know what happened, that I've put you in this place. I want you to go in there and tell the truth, and whatever happens happens and I'm okay with that because I don't regret what I did and I would do it over again the exact same way. Go do your thing," he grinned.

It worked, she felt better. It certainly wasn't sweet and he certainly wasn't comforting in the traditional sense, but it was exactly what she wanted—needed to hear.

"House—I…" she went across the seat and hugged him fiercely, she could confront it all just knowing he was there to hold her hand. "I love you House…" she mouthed against his shirt, she wouldn't give it voice, not yet, not here.

"Alright, now get, go in there and put March behind bars…" he pulled away, but still kept close enough to touch.

"Alright…alright," she said again squaring her shoulders, drying her eyes, sitting up straight. "I'll be done just as quick as I can."

"No rush, I'll be right here waiting for you."

There were no other words that could have given her more hope, more comfort. She nodded and while she still could and got out of the car.

House watched her go with his chest tightening, windpipe constricting. He was far too attached and she knew it which disturbed him. When people know they have power over you they can use it against you. And right now Cameron had more power over him than any woman had ever.

But, there wasn't much he could do now but wait for her to come back—well he could be proactive while he waited. He flipped open his cell phone but before he dialed he read his new text message that came in 'Got info'. He noted the number and smiled. Hitting the recently programmed speed dial he leaned back in his seat ready to deal the first move.

As the phone rang he wondered just how many people could boast of having the leading East Coast mob family on speed dial.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Ms Cameron," Detective Jefferies stood offering his hand as Cameron was shown to his desk by the receptionist.

"It's Dr. Cameron," she shook his hand taking her chair fighting the urge not to fidget.

"Right, Dr. Cameron, thank you for coming down today, I hope you're feeling better." Jefferies took his seat shuffling papers for no apparent reason.

Cameron only nodded.

"Can I get you coffee, tea…anything?" he offered.

"I'm fine, but thank you."

"Alright then, I guess we'll just get started then."

"Perfect."

"Let's start with how you first met Mr. March." Jefferies took a pad of paper out and a pen, "Oh do you care if I record this?" he gestured to a tape recorder.

Her stomach sunk, "No, that's fine." She had nothing to hide.

"Alright, for the record, I asked you how you knew Mr. Marcus March."

"He was a patient at the hospital I work at—"

"That would be where exactly?"

"Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital."

"Perfect, please go on."

"He was sick and had been transferred from several different hospitals before coming to the Diagnostics Department at PPTH. He was in the hospital four days; he was discharged on the morning of the fifth day with the diagnosis of Huntington's Dieses. I was one of his doctors, that's how I met him."

"Alright, did you see Mr. March after he was discharged?"

"I did."

"How many times?"

"Twice, both were platonic in nature."

"Can you describe them a little bit more…did he want the relationship to go further?"

"I can't say what he was thinking or wanting, but I believe that when we parted company it was on amicable terms." She struggled keeping her voice even, neutral.

"You didn't think of him as any more than a friend?"

"I thought he was a nice guy, we got along well…we had coffee, we had a good time, but that was all," she was starting to stress; her voice was starting to pitch higher.

"Why did you break it off?"

"I don't make it a habit of involving my personal life with my professional…" her voice was creeping ever higher, it was cracking.

"But you made an exception with March…so you must have had a connection more than just platonic?"

Was it her imagination but did she just become the accused? She started to shake, "I…we got along…I felt bad for him…" she mumbled.

"You weren't attracted to him at all?" the detective charged.

"He is okay looking…I mean he seemed like a good guy…but I…" pain started shooting behind her eyes, she felt almost dizzy.

"Well what is Dr. Cameron?" Detective Jefferies wouldn't relent, he just hammered harder.

"He shot me…why am I being examined like a criminal?" she whispered.

"I'm just asking a few questions Dr. Cameron, I'm sorry if they are upsetting you."

"They are…" she tried to talk herself into breathing slowly, it wasn't working.

"Why would Mr. March do that you suppose?" Jefferies leaned back in his chair folding his arms.

"I wouldn't know."

"Now surely Dr. Cameron you have some idea, some inkling why a man who you say is a good guy, a guy you liked enough to go out with, would come into your office and shoot you…you must know something that you did that would provoke that?"

"Provoke? _Provoke_?! Is there anything one could do that would justify being shot?" she growled anger finally overcoming the fear.

* * *

_Sorry for the delay! I've been working crazy hours and life is just pretty much hectic...I actually had to record the show last week and have yet to watch! (needless to say I'm going through Hugh withdrawals) Anyway please forgive if there are any little grammar errors or goofs, this chapter isn't as checked over as normal, but I don't think there should be many. Anyway lots of love! RA _


	9. PART 2, Chapter 4

Something was wrong. House didn't know what, and he didn't know why he even knew but it sucker punched him in the gut and he _knew_ that something was most definitely wrong.

"I got to go Mikey, let me know what you find out alright?" House didn't wait for Michael Greco to answer; he shut off the phone without a second thought.

The steps to the police station door weren't many but somehow it felt to House like it took an hour for each. He opened the door just as Cameron came storming out. She brushed by marching with such purpose that she didn't even notice who he was.

"Cameron! What is going on?" He demanded sprinting as best he could to catch up with her.

"Cameron, turn around!" he called when she didn't hear him the first time.

"Huh?" she spun clearly confused, eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears.

"What happened?" he asked again stepping up to her, anger rising, boiling, licking at the muscles in his jaw making it clinch. In compensation for the unnamed throat which caused this pain for Cameron he squeezed the handle of his cane.

"They are bastards. Cold hearted, mean bastards!" she blinked back tears. "They made me feel like I was the bad guy! That I somehow did something that would justify that asshole to shoot me! Why is it that I feel dirty? Explain that to me!" she heaved gesturing madly at the station.

House couldn't speak. He was afraid that if he did that he wouldn't be able to control himself that if he let even the smallest bit go everything else would follow. He would shout, he would holler and raise hell. He would not be pleasant.

"Is there is something to justify that?" tears stung akin to acid

House was a ball of angry furry that was just ready to be unleashed, like a caged animal he seethed and waited to pounce.

"Do you agree? Do you think I did something?" her voice shook uncontrollably.

This vulnerability snapped him back, "Fuck no." That wasn't what he intended to say, he intended to say something comforting, something soothing, something that would make her feel better, not something crude and tasteless. But let's be honest, no one would ever accuse him of being cuddly and comforting like a Beanie baby.

Cameron's mouth fell staring at him; it wasn't at all the response she was expecting. She was expecting an 'of course not baby, it's not your fault, it's okay…he's just a jerk…you're not at responsible…' of course she never really expected those words to come out of Houses' mouth, but she also never expected what he _did _say to be exactly what she needed to hear. It was what she needed to slap her back to reality. It was no velvet embrace, but it was perfect, it was what she needed.

"You're right—you're right! I don't know why I let him do that to me! I should go right back in there and tell him what's what! That's what I should do!" she rebounded shaking her finger madly at the police station, she was back on fire.

"Simmer down my little Hell Cat, I know you're all hiss and spit right now, but I don't want to bail you out of jail…I have a better idea…" he took her by the arm even as she chewed out the unhearing Detective Jefferies. Suddenly his anger was disarmed; he had his hands full with her, no time to do much else.

"No! Who does he think he is?" she demanded.

"Come on Firecracker…" he opened the passenger door and pushed in the car.

They were five miles down the road and she was still ranting on the injustice, the audacity, the complete disrespect and sheer stupidity of it.

"You drive a man to drink Cameron, do you know that?" House finally found a chance to break in.

"What?" she turned to look at him.

"You are crazy when riled…seriously, you are like those Black Cat firecrackers…small harmless looking but once lit you pop…"

She actually kind of liked the comparison. Most times people, guys mostly got one look at her and wrote her off as being just another petite woman who was delicate and fragile, like a china cup. She liked to be taken care of, but sometimes it was just smothering. This wasn't smothering, this was liberating. House made her straighten her spine, he made her bring out her iron…he made her rally and stand up. She realized yet another reason she was madly in love with him: he made her fight.

As they neared House's apartment Cameron began to calm down. "I don't know why they are doing this…I don't know why Keelson would do this. It just doesn't make sense. His stepson is psycho but that doesn't mean he would lose the election because of it. I think he would be far better off calling a press conference and saying that his stepson would be getting the treatment he needs or something. Not this…this is wrong…" she couldn't believe it. She had seen skewed moral compasses before, House had a pretty damaged one, but still, even when his convictions and actions were out of the politically correct circle he did what he believed, and what was, right. This was different. This was wrong.

"It's going to be okay—everything is going to be fine." He assured her, but didn't really want to say how he knew, or that he had pretty much the under belly of society working on it, didn't really think that was the best of ideas.

"How can you be sure?" she demanded exiting the car. "That detective grilled me in there, and if someone can do that to a person who just came out of the hospital after being shot…I have no doubts about any…" she trailed as they came into the hallway of House's building.

"Hey! What's going on in here?" House instinctively, without thought went ahead of and in front of Cameron guarding her from whatever unnamed problem or threat was ahead.

"Gregory House?"

"Yes?!" he remained in front of Cameron, who insisted on bobbing over his shoulder trying to see, he used a hand to keep her back.

"I'm Detective Mathis; we have a warrant to search your apartment."

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"I don't care—we're burying him…" House growled into his cell phone as he paced the roof garden of Wilson's hotel. "I have the whole damn Princeton PD in my apartment! They want to play games I'll play games. This is asinine!" House caught his cane on a loose tile almost tripping. He let a long chain of loud, colorful and quite descriptive expletives explode from is sneering mouth.

"We'll handle this House, we'll handle it but I have to ask, are you any part Italian because that cussing rivaled my great grandfather and he was straight off the boat…" Michael Greco motioned for his younger brother Joey, his, as the _Cosa Nostra _called it _consigliere_, or, counselor, to close the door to his office.

"Damn it, I want something bad to happen to that Jefferies…he went after Cameron in questioning…" House struggled trying to get his bottle of vicodin out his pocket while shouldering his cell phone and holding his cane. His hand shook with anger which certainly didn't help things.

"A man that would wound a woman, especially one like our Dr. Cameron, is a bad man…and I would bet a meat eater…This, we will find out. Take care of your lady, this is your first priority, we'll take care of the rest."

"Alright…" House disconnected.

With his hands free he dropped his cell phone into his pocket in exchange grabbed for the vicodin bottle, he dry swallowed several, his leg a constant throbbing which kept time with his heartbeat.

"House?"

He opened his eyes which he had been squeezing shut; Cameron was standing in front him wrapped in a heavy knit shawl looking impossibly pale and worried. He didn't know what to say, so he just looked at her and hoped that like she had in the hospital she could see what he couldn't say.

She read hurt, it edged the anger. She read frustration for it etched itself clearly upon his unvoiced fear. She saw his expectancy and his resolve. She saw he was open, she saw him raw.

"Who were you talking to?" she approached him.

"Nobody," he lied.

"For someone who is such an expert on liars you aren't a very good one," she smiled nodding in the direction of a wood slatted iron bench.

"Cameron, I don't want to lie to you, so please don't make me," he sighed following her lead and sitting.

"Why would you have to lie to me?" she tried not to sound frantic or pushy.

"Because the truth could hurt you," he answered plainly while his eyes stared off into the darkening blue sky.

She swallowed. "Don't do this House…don't freeze me out. Give me the chance to get close—if I fail then you're out nothing, you can say you were right…but if, for once you're wrong, and I am strong enough to stand by you—to love you…then…House please let me get close…"

"If it were that easy, if it were that simple I would have let you a long time ago. But it's not, because if I mess this up, if I let you get close enough to see too much and you leave then it's not nothing I'm out—it's everything." He turned his head, his tired blue eyes meeting her sea colored ones.

Tears formed, she bit her lip. "I made my mind up a long time ago, there isn't anything you could do that would make me love you less. Because I do, I do love you…" she lifted her hand to his rough cheek. "I need you, you need me—we're good together I think. Just let me in there, let me in…let me have a chance…" she whispered urgently thumb rubbing gently along his cheekbone.

A tremor rattled House's heart, it shattered the ice. This was different, it was one thing to admit he loved her, it was another to let her see that he cared, but what was happening now wasn't even describable. It was accepting her love in return; it was depending on her, trusting her, giving up that control. This perhaps was bigger than even admitting he loved her. This was admitting he needed her.

"Alright…but I don't think you want to know what I'm doing…" his voice was rough, hoarse.

"If you won't tell me, I have to trust you…but I wish you would…"

His hand which twitched to reach for more pills instead went to hers which was still against his cheek. He removed it turning it palm up massaging the dips and lines with his thumb. "What I'm doing isn't exactly legal—and if I tell you and I'm busted, it could jeopardize you…"

She shuttered in a breath, "Okay…is what you're doing right, I don't mean legal…I mean _right_?" she really didn't need to ask, she knew the answer.

"I can only say that I promise the ends justify the means," he stared at her palm running it over in his.

She stopped the absent motion by twining her fingers with his, "Alright, then tell me everything."

"If I started by telling you I kind of, sort of, in a matter of speaking, joined the mob what would your reaction be?"

* * *

_Sorry that this chapter is shorter then the rest...terribly busy, but I hope you enjoy this chapter, I really like it...LOL it's got a little more romance then the previous ones--though they still haven't kissed...hmmph. Anyway again sorry for the shortness :-) Lots of Love RA  
_


	10. PART 2, Chapter 5

"You want me to what?" Wilson did a double take at House who sat at on his hotel room balcony smoking a cigar.

"I want you to go down to the bar for a while."

"Why? Why can't I get drunk in my room, if getting drunk is what I want to do.?" Wilson demanded pacing the small area, he wasn't sure if pacing was habit he had always had or was one he had picked up from his friend.

"Because Wilson for whatever reason I like you, consider you a friend, and I don't really want to see you in jail, so for my sake please go sit yourself down in that lounge and kindly let me use your room?"

"What are you planning on doing?" Wilson was too startled to be shocked.

"Why does everyone want to stick their noses in my business? Really, just go…" House flicked ashes off the glowing end of the rich cigar.

"Why can't you get your own room?" Wilson folded his arms.

House arched his eyebrows, his silent looking saying 'if you can't figure it out than I have serious reservations about your intelligence.'

"Damn it House! You called Greco didn't you?! He's coming here…he's the one you've been talking to…you went to see him today didn't you?!" it wasn't really a question, but an infinite statement.

"So what if I did?"

"How do you get us in these messes?" Wilson threw open the sliding door going back into his suite.

"What? There is no 'us' in this…" House struggled to his feet snuffing out the remainder of his cigar as he followed Wilson in.

"Well there is an us," House corrected when he felt Cameron's glare burning him from where she sat working on her laptop on the sofa, "But there is no 'us'," House indicated Wilson and him. "You aren't in this! In fact I've taken every step I know to keep you as far from this as I can—for all thanks I get!"

Cameron went on typing; only stopping to adjust her glasses once or twice. Wilson kept looking at her unbelieving that she was taking this so calmly.

"Oh, you aren't involving me by using MY ROOM!" Wilson pulled open the fridge yanking out a mineral water.

"I tried to get you to leave, thereby making 'my room'."

"It doesn't matter! It's my name on the damned bill!" Wilson slammed the fridge making the glasses on top clatter and shake.

A knock on the room door made all three occupants turn to the room door.

"I'll get it," Cameron rose.

Wilson got in one more glare at House before masking his face blank.

"Dr. Cameron! It is good to see you looking so well," Michael Greco came with two men behind him.

"Michael, Joey—nice to see you too," Cameron smiled accepting their light kisses on both her cheeks. She did like them, as long as she succeeded in keeping who they were separate from what they did. She was unfamiliar with the third gentleman.

"Dr. House…and Dr. Wilson…the last time I was in room with so many doctors it was…" Joey started but was elbowed sharply by his elder brother.

"What? I wasn't going to say what you think I was going to say, I was going to say, that the last time I was with all these guys I was dying, so you know seeing them again and not be dying is like—a good thing."

Michael sighed raising his hands in front of him in that well know gesture of 'why me Lord?'

"Well I can say that I am very pleased the circumstances are different." Cameron took the men's jackets to Wilson's bed in the separate bedroom.

"You gentleman haven't met him, so let me introduce you to Damien Rizzo, he is the son of the Rizzo boss Paolo." Michael introduced the third man.

"I know what you did for Joey, so you are alright in my book," Damien gripped House's hand with both of his in an exuberant shake. "I am glad I can help you."

Cameron reappeared rid of her burdens and found the room oddly silent as she did. She looked at the five men curious. "What?"

Joey whispered something to Michael, who in turn whispered something to House.

"You're shitting me?" House looked at the three Italian men.

"In polite company we do not discuss business." Michael folded his hands in front of him.

"This business is all about her, she has a right to know," Wilson offered.

"She is a lady, it is not right," Joey continued.

Cameron opened her mouth to argue but a look from House told she should wait.

"She stays…" House said firmly. The Three Italians shared a look. "As a personal favor to me, let her stay," House furthered.

"We don't like it, but for you Dr. House, alright," Michael relented and everyone took their seats.

Michael took a chair as did Wilson. Joey and Damien took the sofa and House took the recliner, Cameron with little option perched herself on the arm.

"We can trust that what we say does not leave this room correct?" Michael started the exchange.

"Of course," House said, Wilson and Cameron nodded in agreement.

"Thank you," Michael turned to Damien, "Damien has some information which we think will be of some help to you."

The doctors sat on pins and needles.

"When Michael told me what had happened to your Dr. Cameron I was deeply grieved, even more when I learned that it was at the hands of a son of Dane Keelson, I have to say that I did not believe at first. But Michael does not lie, and when I got word of what Keelson is doing to you Dr. House in an attempt to incriminate you I was disgusted.

"The Rizzo Family has done business with Keelson and we are ready to disclose and give evidence of these dealings which will put an unsavory light on the congressman." Damien Rizzo spoke lowly, methodically; it was obvious that he chose his words precisely.

"Thank you for helping us," House answered equally precise.

"Do not thank me yet, for I don't know that help I can give you will be satisfactory…"

Three pairs of eyes burned Damien's flesh. "Please, hear me out." He put a hand to his heart, "I know what it is to lust after revenge, and if I could I would give you it to you, but the position we are in is delicate. My family is not willing to see him removed from Congress at this juncture. If we apply pressure and he does not relent in his spiteful pursuit of you nor does he assure that his son gets his punishment then we will discuss again. Another condition we will be imposing on Mr. Keelson is that he will donate to your hospital a percent of his income annually, as we are under the understanding that it is a teaching hospital that relies heavily on donations, am I correct?"

House and the other two nodded.

"Alright, my family asks that you give us twenty four hours to reason with Keelson and remedy this in-house, and in good faith that we intend to follow through we offer these," Damien slid a manila envelope across the table towards House.

House looked at the offering curiously then nodded to Cameron, his leg was throbbing, he didn't feel like moving. Cameron realized this without hesitation and quickly rose to retrieve the envelope.

House opened it spilling several photographs into his lap. They were of the congressman with an obvious call girl.

"That is Sharon Kay, you may know her as Star Gazer, infamous Trenton Madame…"

"She's on trial right now isn't she?" Cameron gasped.

"Indeed Dr. Cameron, this was part of our deal with the congressman. We made a deal to assure that he was kept out of the lawsuit, removed from Miss Kay's records. We give you these as proof our sincerity."

"Okay." House slipped the pictures back into their holder. "Thank you for this Damien."

Michael stood signaling the end of the meeting. The men rose and shook hands.

"I am deeply sorry for what has happened Dr. Cameron, my family wishes you a speedy recovery—my mother says to tell you she prays," Damien approached Cameron.

"Thank you—but this isn't your fault," she answered warmly.

Damien nodded and started to leave with Michael and Joey.

With the _mafiusu_ gone the doctors breathed a little easier, even if they were on their side, the whole thing was a little creepy after all.

-----------------------------------

"This still doesn't explain March—I know Keelson is pulling the strings, but it was March that pulled the trigger and I don't think anyone has a clear reason on why…" Wilson started mixing together ingredients for pancakes in the little suite kitchenette.

"He's still too banged up to talk with police, or anyone else. Its conjecture at this point," Cameron chopped bananas offering them to Wilson's mixing bowl.

House was tired of speculating on the issue, he sat on a stool pulled up to the breakfast bar adjacent to the kitchenette. "Why are we having pancakes at 2 in the morning?" he groaned.

"You've never had breakfast for dinner?" Cameron offered the mixing spoon for him to lick, he balked. Cake batter sure, cookie dough, hell yeah, but pancake batter? No.

She shrugged licking it herself.

"When my mom was sick this was her favorite thing…when she couldn't sleep after chemo she would get out her old recipe book and we'd make pancakes while my dad cooked up bacon and eggs…" Wilson out of the blue said.

For Cameron who didn't know Wilson's history a whole lot of things became suddenly very clear.

"I grew up on a dairy farm…" Cameron started with a grin, "My dad got up to milk the cows every morning at four, everyone was pretty much asleep, but I would get up and me and my dad would have a bowl of ice cream with Fig Newton's…it was our secret, eating ice cream in the middle of night—well morning, till I went to college but we did it every summer when I got home till he passed away my senior year." She tried to banish the grief that had dulled with the years but still came back every one in a while with sharp, vengeance.

House was growing uncomfortable with the sharing, especially about parents. He didn't talk about feelings and certainly didn't talk about parents—especially not his.

"Alright, well when you two start crying in the batter, try and stay away from eggs huh," he gruffly snapped heading for the sofa, flicking on the TV.

"I'm gonna…" Cameron started motioning to House.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," Wilson waved her off.

"Hey, what are we watching?" Cameron went into the living room, then curled next to him on the sofa.

He mumbled something incomprehensible and flipped the channel several times.

"Don't start that introverted thing again alright?" she sighed laying her head on his shoulder.

"Start? I never stopped," he settled the TV on a Japanese station that was showing some kind of magician doing card tricks.

"We don't have to talk about parents, I was just sharing with Wilson—I don't expect you to be like him alright? So don't do your hermit, brooding thing okay…I'm exhausted…and my side hurts…" she had to talk around a sudden string of yawns. She was past the point of feeling accommodating. She lifted his arm around her and settled in making herself quite at home.

He gave her an inch—she took a damn football field. Not that he was complaining.

"Is she asleep?" Wilson came in with stack of pancakes and paper plates, napkins and silverware.

"Yep."

"That was quick," Wilson put the foodstuff on coffee table pulling the recliner a little more in-line with the television.

"Long day…" House shrugged the shoulder that wasn't being occupied by the softly snoring Cameron.

"Yeah…" Wilson passed pancakes.

"And they are only going to get longer."

The men found the comfortable silence that they often shared.

* * *

_Okay so I'm in a really weird place with this story…I have some basic parameters set but it's getting all the roads to lead there that are giving me the slight problem. I keep trying to take it places I never meant to and places that just don't really fit. Anyway, the next chapter will mostly likely be a while coming because I'm stumped LOL. I hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!!! Lots of Love RA_


	11. PART 2, Chapter 6

_Well, I can't believe it's taken me this long to get this chapter written but I did and I'm not entirely sure that I'm happy with it…it seems kind of redundant and lacking in plot development but I think I've got myself on a good track as at least I'm writing something now. As for an excuse for my delay I offer nothing really good, only that I've been working massive overtime and that has left me pretty brain drained… LOL but never the less, this is story is getting bigger and bigger—way bigger than I ever intended. What I had pictured as few chapter sequel is now a sixty page and counting monster of story. Anyway thank you so much for you patients, I hope you enjoy!!!! Lots of Love RA_

* * *

House woke the next morning to aching muscles and a shrilling cell phone. After numbly sliding from under Cameron who didn't even stir he wrangled his phone from his jacket.

"What?" he snarked after jabbing the send button.

"Greg House, this is Detective Mathis with the Trenton Police Department, we would like to set up a time for you to come down and meet with us to talk about what happened at the hospital last week…"

House had to almost literally bite his tongue to keep from saying everything he wanted so badly to say. "Sure, what time?" he strained to keep from snarling.

"I was thinking about noon, we grab lunch." Mathis was too kind to be sincere.

"Sounds fine, I'll be there." House hung up chest heaving with labored breaths.

"The police?" Wilson came out of the bedroom dressed and showered having apparently been awake for a while, yet had no trouble stepping into a conversation with a still bleary eyed House.

"Yeah…" House headed toward the kitchenette limp more pronounced than usual.

"Breakfast?" Wilson offered pulling the leftover pancake batter from the fridge; it was only several hours old.

"Yeah," House grunted taking up the stool.

"She's had a long week," Wilson cut a pat of butter into the fry pan, looking out at Cameron.

"Yeah."

"You you know you're going to have to saying something more than one word today…"

"Yeah," he drew the word out long.

"You love her very much…" Wilson ladled batter onto the sizzling pan.

"Yeah…too much," House almost sounded disgusted.

"You can never love too much."

"I can—I love too much then I do stupid things."

"You do stupid things anyway."

"Whatever, she's too good for me and I know it, we both know it just a matter of time before I screw things up."

"Yep," Wilson flipped the pancake.

"Aren't you supposed to be the encouraging one? You're supposed to tell things like 'love will find a way' or 'with love anything is possible'…" House grumbled wishing he had vodka to put in his orange juice.

"Why? You seem to have got it down already, without me saying anything…" Wilson slid the pancake onto a plate. "You will mess up House, she will mess up, it's one of those things that happen, that are inevitable, that goes along with being human with being two radically different people trying to mesh together. But Cameron is stronger then she looks, she'll battle for you—for your relationship, it's written all over her. Don't be afraid of messing up, just be open to her, and be honest."

"I still think you should have gone all Dr. Phil instead of oncology…" House accepted the offered plate of pancakes.

"Maybe, but then I'd be a millionaire in Malibu saying things like 'what were you thinking' instead of standing here making you pancakes…" he paused in contemplation, "You're right, I should have been Dr. Phil…"

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Are you sure you don't want me going with you? I'll wait in the car…" Cameron hovered anxiously as House prepared to leave Wilson's hotel suite.

"No, you stay here—I'll call you when I'm done," he felt awkward having her fuss; he shrugged her away even as she held out his coat to him.

"House—I love you," she held the sleeve of his jacket, "Be careful okay…" she leaned up on tip toe to kiss his rough cheek.

He stood stiller than a statute, but when her tender lips met his cheek, when her body lightly pressed against his he realized he didn't want her to move. He snaked an arm around her waist and didn't let her go away. The stood like that for half a minute, she resting her chin on his shoulder, him with his arm around her. This is what he was fighting for; this was what he was protecting.

"Be good," he kissed her hair before letting her go abruptly.

The door drug over the carpet clicking dully shut before Cameron could even think of a response.

"He's not stupid, he'll be okay…" Wilson not wanting to intrude before ventured out of the kitchenette area now.

"I know that, but that doesn't mean I don't worry—I feel…I don't know how I feel!" she threw up her hands in exasperation. "No…you know what, I do know how I feel—I feel terrified! I am terrified!" she nearly stomped to the sofa sitting, arms crossed and eyes glaring.

"Funny, you're terrified looks more like royally pissed off…" Wilson fought a smirk.

Her fiery eyes slashed over him.

"Like I said, your terrified is very different…you look like you're ready to take someone's head off…but that's just my opinion."

She ground her teeth jutting her jaw in tight, livid frustration. "This is insane…this isn't happening, this is like some nightmare! I don't understand…I just don't understand! Dammit Wilson we are in bed with mob! The MOB! We are fighting the police, the damn congress…! This isn't sane! The whole world has hopped in a hand basket destination Hell!" she ranted with snapping hand gestures.

"Yes, I have to admit that this is pretty unconventional…" Wilson nodded.

"Unconventional? Unconventional?! I hate to break it to you, but this is way past unconventional…this is more than that, this _so_ much more…!"

"You're right…" Wilson backed down quickly, he wanted no piece of her crazy.

"I know I'm right!"

"Okay…maybe you and House getting together was a bad thing…he's rubbing off way too much…"

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"I think your cell phone is ringing."

Cameron's attention broke from staring at the newspaper she hadn't read a word of to the chirping slip of black on the coffee table.

The number on the caller ID she didn't know, "Allison Cameron," she answered.

"Hey, it's me…"

"House? Where are you at?" her hand shook.

"I'm at the station."

"Why are calling from this number…what happened to your cell phone?" she demanded.

"Well, it's kind of a long story."

"Start talking then!"

"I only get five minutes…"

"Oh House…you…they…you're not…?"

"Yep."

She groaned hand on her forehead, "Oh House…"

"I don't need a lecture…I do need you get a hold of that attorney…"

"Okay, I will…" her shoulders slumped, "But I want an explanation when I get there…"

"Cam…" he started.

"No, you hid the m…well the other thing from me, no more—that's just it no more! I am putting my foot down."

"Do have any idea how much of a turn on it is when you get all snotty and bossy?"

She laughed, but it was a tense exaggerated laugh meant only as an outlet for otherwise inescapable emotions, "Oh House…I can't believe this happening."

"It's okay, really, this is no big deal. Just call the attorney and she'll take it from here…it's okay."

"You know…everybody says that I have come to the conclusion that…you're right, everybody lies."

House snickered slightly, "That's my girl, but I mean it everything is wrong right now but I swear to you that I will make this alright. I am just asking you to trust me…"

She shivered in a breath, "Okay, okay—I'll make the calls."

Silence tapped for a second as both waited for the other to hang up.

"You know Cameron…" he trailed.

"Yeah, yeah I know," she smiled softly sensing what was unsaid at the end of his words. "I love you too."

He was the first to hang up.

"So?" Wilson lifted his eyebrows.

"House is in jail, I've got to call Victoria White…probably Greco too…Do you think they have a listing for Mob Crime Boss in the phonebook?"

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Where is House?" Cuddy blinked at Wilson.

"At the moment, police station lockup."

"What happened? Why do I get the feeling there is a whole lot more going on that I don't know about?" she tapped her foot, though the impatient gesture's effectiveness was cut in half when the annoying sound was muted by her office carpet.

"There is a lot more, but please don't ask me repeat it…"

"Why?" Cuddy kept her foot tapping.

"Well for one, it's pretty unbelievable and two it's rather illegal."

"Oh for pete's sake," she sat at her desk.

"But that aside it looks like House will be going to go to trial, if not for the March thing for the whole assaulting an officer thing…"

"He assaulted an officer?!" Cuddy groaned rubbing her forehead.

"Yep, House says he was provoked and that actually the office threw the first punch."

"Don't they video tape interrogations?" Cuddy frowned.

"Well it wasn't a interrogation actually, just an interview but yes they do video, but the police department is saying that due to a technical difficulty all data which is input into computer systems has been erased, which includes the digital copy of both Cameron's interview and House's."

"Damn convenient," Cuddy muttered in disgust.

"One could say that."

"Why would the police do something like that?"

"I love that you see the world as you wish it were…but more often than not the 'good guys' are the bad guys and sometimes the 'bad' actually the good." Wilson smiled sweetly, albeit a little sad and leaned down to brush a whisper light kiss on her brow.

"What am I supposed to do with that? That wasn't at all an answer," she looked up at him.

"Well you're the boss; you can do whatever you want with that."

"I don't want to see him hurt Wilson…"

Wilson pondered this ready to fight a fit of jealously but strangely it didn't come. He knew Lisa loved House in her own way which really didn't have a definition. She had known him almost as long as he himself had; it was natural that she loved him—as long as she didn't _love _him it would be okay.

"I don't either."

"We can't protect him can we?" she was hopeful while still rational.

"It was never our job to, but no, I don't think we can do anything to help this except stand by him and Cameron as they figure it out."

"Well I did get Victoria White to take him on as a client…that was something." Cuddy was never satisfied with doing nothing.

"Yeah, well maybe this isn't the best time to tell you this, but House is going to represent himself."

Cuddy's assistant just outside the office blushed, when he heard his boss use that curse word.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Oh House," Cameron swallowed seeing his purple and black eye, cut lip, lacerated cheek and raw knuckles.

"You should see the other guy," he smiled faintly shouldering the phone mentally cursing the thick clear wall between them.

"This isn't fair…" she gritted her teeth then closed her eyes shaking her head resolving not to dwell, "What did Victoria say? When can we get you out of here?"

"Well you see Cameron…" he started shifting listlessly.

"No!? Please tell me you didn't…no certainly not…"

"Do have ESP Cameron?" House lifted his eyebrows.

"You really didn't send her away did you?" she groaned.

"Well yes, but I have a very good reason…"

"And what is that?"

"Her shoes were ugly."

She cursed under her breath, "No House, no, I won't accept that—tell me the truth."

"Her shoes really were ugly, but I just didn't have a good feeling about her…and I talked to Michael and…"

"House! The idea is to keep you from going to jail! I don't care how we do it, but dammit House, I think we need Victoria…obviously Michael hasn't been much help as you are sitting here…I have no loyalties when it comes to keeping you from jail I will work with anybody…I will do anything…"

He believed her. He didn't know how to reply to that, she was more impassioned than he'd had ever seen her.

"Cameron…"

"No, we tried it your way and this is what happened…now, now we do it my way…" her bravado failed her and her voice quivered just slightly.

"Okay…we'll try it," he relented.

She laughed shakily, "Well since you're there and everything it would seem you're not really in a place to argue."

"Touché, my dear," he smiled.

"House, please be careful…" she lifted her hand to the glass, he lifted his pressing it against hers."

"I love you Cameron."


	12. PART 2, Chapter 7

"Stephanie? Hi it's Allison, I was wondering if you had time for me stop by…" Cameron steered House's Corvette much as he had a couple days before through down town Trenton, but she wasn't talking to a congressman or on her way to see a mobster.

"Sure, we haven't met for coffee and doughnuts in ages, it'll be fun. I'm at the office right now but I'll meet you at Dunkin' Donuts…"

"Perfect, I'm about ten minutes away."

"See ya then."

Cameron disconnected settling back against the smooth leather of the seat. Meeting with Stephanie was, hopefully, going to accomplish two things; one being Cameron could unload a whole lot onto Stephanie and gab as only long time friends could; two being Stephanie had some rather unique and potentially helpful friends.

She had known Stephanie since junior year in college when she transferred to Douglass from Ohio State for a semester. They were quite different as Stephanie was a wild child and Cameron was a reserved devoted student…but in spite of perhaps because of this they got along.

Cameron wound her way out of downtown Trenton into the little suburb of Chambersburg. Little row housing dotted with little trees where happy little families lived. However the cars were anything but small, they were in fact huge, wide and resembled boats—in fact they were more docked then parked. She found her way to the small donut shop not far from where Stephanie worked.

"Hot car!" a tall brunette came out of the pink and orange shop large coffee and Boston Crème in her hand.

"It's not mine so stay away—far away," Cameron held a hand up. She was laughing as she said it, but she was more serious than a heart attack, Stephanie had a reputation which didn't bode well for vehicles.

"Hey, it wasn't my fault," Stephanie offered as they shared a hug awkwardly around the hot beverage and pastry.

"Lula is inside hassling the counter guy over the correct number in a baker's dozen, so I thought we'd sit out here," Stephanie gestured to one of the umbrella covered tables.

"How is Lula?" Cameron grinned taking a chair. Stephanie sat across pushing her sunglasses into a mass of unruly curls.

"Terrible, she is on some diet or another…which somehow includes donuts and she got busted for carrying her Glock, but she still finds happiness in the bottom of a Cluck-N-The Bucket special…"

Cameron grinned. They were still such a contrast. Stephanie sat in jeans, knit v-neck stretch top, Cat work boots and long sleeved flannel shirt. Cameron was dressed in caramel colored slacks, chocolate colored thin sweater vest over an ivory gauze short sleeve button top. She wore high heeled loafers and her hair was carefully coiffed. Even their jobs were about as far apart as you could get.

"Joe get that ring on your finger yet?" Cameron furthered with a sly smile.

"No…but it's not for his lack of trying…" Stephanie frowned.

"I never understood that…"

"What?" Stephanie licked a bit of crème from her thumb.

"I have been trying to get the little house with the picket fence in suburbia forever and you keep getting the opportunity handed to you on a silver platter yet throw it away like bad sushi!" Cameron laughed.

"Honey, the only thing that is silver around here is your reflection in Big Blue's oil slick in the drive way or my Grandma Mazur's hair…and eating raw fish can't be good for you… What about that hot doctor guy you were telling about that invited you to Africa?"

"I didn't have any interest in him, I told you that…"

"Right, and I have no interest in settling down with Morelli yet…"

"Not at all the same…"

"So?"

"Never mind…are you still hanging out with bounty hunter supreme guy?"

Stephanie just about sent coffee out her nose, "Ranger?" she coughed wiping her mouth with a napkin.

"Whatever his name is…" Cameron shrugged.

"Yeah, I still…hey, I slept with guy alright?!"

"Dude! TMI! Why would you just shout something like out? Seriously Steph!" Cameron recoiled.

"Sorry, it happened last week when Morelli and I were in an 'off' phase…I have been dying to tell someone and it isn't exactly something you tell someone on a phone call…"

"Does Morelli know?"

"No Morelli doesn't know…and I want to keep it that way!"

Cameron shook her head trying to process, "Okay, whatever…"

"You have to meet Ranger to understand and believe me Batman…Magician…Wizard—these are names he is known by—they don't even _begin_ to describe it!"

"Again with the too much information…"

Stephanie shrugged thinking that Cameron had no idea how much of an oxymoron it was to group Ranger with the phrase 'too much information', "Why do you ask anyway…?"

"I kind of a have a situation…or rather House…"

"That's your boss you have the hots for right?" Stephanie interrupted.

"Yes, that would be the one and did I ever tell you that you have such a talent for making things sound cheap?" Cameron frowned.

"Hey this is the Burg, not fancy shmanchy Princeton k'? There are two things, well three things, we do really well out here, one of which is cheap—the other is big hair and I'll let you use your imagination on the third thing…"

Cameron cringed, "Do you remember when you told me about when you did that 'distraction' thing for that Ranger guy…it was to trap that skip you were trying to catch…?"

"Yeah I remember, I mean I do it off and on so I probably don't remember the specific one you are mentioning…"

"Doesn't matter—I just need you to do it again and I need your Ranger guy to catch him…I have money," Cameron extracted her checkbook as if to prove the point.

"Put that damn thing away! I don't charge for favors, but I do expect an explanation…and it sounds juicy—tell me it's juicy?" there was a slight whiny note to the half Italian, half Hungarian apprentice bounty hunters voice.

"Yes and no—and if you'd let me get a word in you'd have it…" Cameron lifted her eyebrows meaningfully.

"Talk faster and maybe you'd hold my attention," Stephanie dug out a TaskyKake snack cake take out of her bag unwrapping it and taking a large bite, "What?" she licked her thumb when Cameron made a 'I can't believe you just ate that after your donut' face.

"Anyway last week there was a shooting at the hospital I work at—I was the target, House, my boss, stopped the shooter," Cameron proceeded to explain the story.

"Dude, damn, _damn_! I mean you're okay right? The police are really putting him in jail?" Stephanie was leaning on her elbows on the table completely enthralled.

"He's in jail now. According to our contact in the Rizzo family Keelson has a penchant for…well 'ladies of the evening'…and though Rizzo has given us ammunition against him in this regard we can't use it yet at their request…so I was thinking that if you could get your Ranger to help, you could pose…well pose as a distraction—or attraction, as it were, and Ranger could…I don't know perhaps persuade him to knock off the assault on House? And if that didn't work we could at least get pictures that we could use to defame him…" Cameron ended cautiously hopeful.

"Cameron, Ranger is a bounty hunter—not a mafia enforcer—I think we should talk to Vinnie's—he's sort of—technically—my boss I told you about him—you might have even met him, talk to his receptionist Connie, her…" and Stephanie lapsed into a Burg version of the biblical begets describing this Connie's connection to the Burg mafia which Cameron just couldn't keep her attention on.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"I don't want to jump through anymore hoops! Can you just ask this Ranger if he'll do it?" Cameron nearly pleaded, "I have dealt with the mob already, I've gone through an attorney—the police seem to be all dirty—I can't keep doing this! I can't keep running in circles—House is sitting in jail because he defended me…I can't play any more games…" tears were quivering in his voice.

"Okay—okay, Alli I'll call him—I'm sure he'll do it, it'll be okay…" Stephanie pulled out her cell phone hitting a speed dial button.

Cameron leaned back in her chair wishing for her sunglasses as the autumn sunshine beat down. Stephanie sat with cell to her ear when a large black woman adorned in magic spandex which appeared to five sizes too small but couldn't be since it was—in a manner of speaking covering her body…oh and this wonder fabric was hot pink with accents of leopard print.

"Hey! Skinny white girl! Long time no see!" the woman who was the indomitable self proclaimed recovering ho, enveloped Cameron in a large hug.

"Hey Lula," Cameron laughed.

Lula sat herself down at the table and opened the box of donuts which contained Cameron noticed, 15 donuts.

"Yo yourself—hey I've got kind of a big favor to ask of you…" Stephanie held a finger up asking for silence as she started her phone conversation. "I have a good friend who is in a bit of trouble and could use your help…No this isn't exactly something I can call Morelli for…yeah you can start a new tab…" there was blush tingeing her cheeks. "We're at the donut shop just down from the office…Okay, we'll see you in five." She hung up the phone returning it to her purse.

"He's coming…" Stephanie dodged Lula's protesting to grab a donut from the box.

"Hey! These are mine, not yours, don't touch!" Lula cried. "But here, you eat one Cameron—you are way too skinny, people die from being too skinny you know…eat," Lula scooted the box toward her.

Cameron smiled a wry smile but took a maple bar.

"So it's forever since you came slumming, what's up?" Lula took a large bit out of an éclair. So again Cameron told the story.

"Hell no, you didn't just tell me…that's crazy…" Lula was riled and Cameron knowing Lula fairly well knew that riled wasn't a good thing, bad things tended to happen she was riled.

As it had taken a few minutes to relate the story they were now eagerly awaiting the arrival of Ranger.

"Spidey Sense says he close," Stephanie said suddenly.

"That aint no special sense, that's the big black Porsche with that big black truck behind it with the big black man driving!" Lula grunted in disgust.

"Or it could be that—but never the less Batman has arrived." Stephanie nodded.

The limo black windows of the midnight black Porsche Carrera GT rolled down slightly as it parked in the spot next to House's cherry red Corvette, Cameron only got a glimpse of dark hair and a flash off mirrored sunglasses yet for some reason her heart went pitty pat a little faster than normal.

The big black Ford F-150 with canopy and matching black windows pulled in on the other side of the Porsche. Cameron for unknown reasons sucked in her breath and held it.

The door to the sports car opened and out climbed elegantly and utterly over powering a walking Cuban god. Skin of mocha, hair as black as his car, Cameron couldn't see his eyes for the aviator style mirror black glasses but she was sure they were gorgeous. He was dressed in cargo military style pants which molded perfectly on firm toned calves and thighs. A wide black web belt with metal grommets sat in the loops of the black camo colored pants and synched in the nearly painted on black t-shirt. Cameron's mouth just about dropped. She had once heard the term 'walking sex' but had never fully understood it till right this second. And though it was hard to think as he approached she could hear in the far back corner of her conscious Stephanie saying '…Wizard doesn't even begin to cover it…'

Exiting from the mammoth truck was a mammoth man; Cameron would have sworn he was ten feet tall and eight feet wide. The sun glinted off his shiny bald head and though he was dressed almost identical to the first guy it was whole different ball game with this fella.

"Porsche must be Ranger…but who is the other guy?" Cameron breathed blatantly staring at the men.

"That's Tank—he's Ranger's right hand man…" Stephanie who seemed unflustered and unaffected answered.

"Hell yes he's a tank…"

Stephanie grinned, "You get it now?"

"I'm starting to…"

"Hey Babe," the Cuban god came on the trio to stand at her back, hand gently on the nape of her neck.

"Hey Ranger…" Stephanie answered and Cameron was delighted to hear the slight squeak in her voice, she wasn't as unaffected after all.

"Um Ranger this is a dear friend of mine we met in college, Allison Cameron," Stephanie made a wave gesture between the two, "Alli this is Ranger."

"Just Ranger?" Cameron offered her hand with a smile.

"Actually Ranger is my nickname, my name is Carlos Manoso," he flashed a devastating smile with brilliantly white teeth shaking her hand with a firm warm grip. Cameron felt a little warm in other places too.

"Pleasure to meet you Carlos," she struggled out.

"No one calls him Carlos…except maybe his mother, but we're not too sure he has a mother—we think maybe he came flying down on some meteoroid like Superman…" Lula interjected.

"I don't care if she calls me Carlos," Ranger smiled.

Something about the way he said it made Cameron blush and made her want to giggle. "I don't mind calling you Ranger if that is what you go by…" she mentally slapped her forehead when she heard how breathless she sounded.

"Well what do you say we sit down and see if we can't solve your problem Alli?"

"Sounds perfect…"

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

* * *

_**  
**_

_Okay—I know that this story is derailing LOL and I'm trying to get it back on track and I am pretty sure suddenly dumping in cross over characters from Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum Books wasn't the way to do it, but never the less I did it and I'm working with it. A big, huge thank you to **SilvaK **who read this chapter and gave me very helpful input. Thanks for reading sticking with it! RA_


	13. PART 2, Chapter 8

**I can't believe it…I should really be cowering in a whole somewhere; I'm horrified at my behavior…over a month? I have no excuse…the best I can do is say that finally my muse and my schedule got back together and invited be back to the party… I truly am sorry, and if you could find it in your heart to forgive me I'd appreciate it more than I can say :-)**

As a peace offering I submit this longer that previous, chapter. I hope you enjoy and aren't disappointed. Thank you for coming back or checking maybe checking this story out for the first time--RA

* * *

"I wasn't supposed to be part of the plan…!" Cameron protested even as Stephanie handed her a slip of material through the cracked open bathroom door.

"Come on Al, it's not that bad, you're just there as backup…" Stephanie grinned checking her makeup in her pocket compact, she was satisfied that it was slutty enough.

"I thought that is what we had Batman and Truck for…"

"It's Tank, not Truck but they are there in case things get too out of hand."

"Whatever," Cameron huffed looking back at herself in mirror. She looked like a damned prostitute…it brought flashes of another kind, she quickly locked those away. "Shit." She opened the door.

"Perfect! Well itsa good thing you a doctor 'cause you'd just run the girls right outta business," Lula grinned hands on her green spandex incased hips.

Cameron glared at her, "I don't like this."

"You look fine Babe," Ranger nodded from his wide braced apart stance by the front door.

"Hey—I'm Babe, she can't be Babe…" Stephanie muttered.

Cameron blushed slightly tugging down at the micro mini skirt that was bright purple with shimmer sequins while trying to tug up the plummeting V of the draped, air inhibiting matching purple halter top.

"Let's get going…" Ranger nodded to Tank to open the door for the ladies. Lula went first followed by Cameron then last was Stephanie with Ranger a hand on the small of her back as he locked up behind.

The piled into Ranger's black Ford Bronco with the track of flood lights on top.

"Don't mean to tell how to do your job but don't you think that maybe this vehicle will stick out a bit?" Cameron was between the other two females in the back while Ranger took the passenger and Tank drove.

"The way you three are dressed they wouldn't notice if you came in by helicopter." Ranger pulled a black, nondescript backpack of no noticeable brand from under the seat. "Let's get you guys wired," he nodded to Cameron and Stephanie. "Lula, you're the bait so we're going to leave you clean."

Cameron thought the real reason was because with the way that latex was fitting nothing else was possibly going to fit.

"Steph you're up," Ranger held up a photo button with the picture of Justin Timberlake with rhinestones spelling out 'Mrs. Timberlake'.

"You're joking right?" Stephanie was incredulous.

Cameron laughed loudly when Ranger shook his head saying he wasn't at all teasing.

"Go ahead and laugh—bet you're going be 'Mrs. Pitt'!" Stephanie glared at her as Ranger's nimble fingers pinned the button on the bodice of her strapless tube top which was chartreuse and went so wonderfully well with her hot pink mini.

"Alli," Ranger motioned her to lean forward. For her he had an equally gaudy button disguising the teeny tiny microphone but it lacked the martial declaration of Mrs. Pitt, instead it had the American flag in red white and blue.

"Hey! Why do I get the immature Mrs. Timberlake pin? That's not fair—you should have had us flip for it or something," Stephanie pouted.

"Sorry—didn't think about it." Ranger turned back to the front.

"I should have a pin too."

"No, you're the bait," Ranger didn't mince words.

"Still say I should have a pin or I won't look like I fit—only black girl between two scrawny white girls…and don't have no pin? The guy is gonna smell something rotten!" Lula folded her arms across her ample chest.

"Fine—here," Ranger tossed her a pin with a cannabis leaf in bright green rhinestones.

"Thank you—hey, are you trying to get arrested?"

"Lula, getting picked up for prostitution should be your bigger concern—not wearing a pot leaf on your outfit," Cameron pointed out.

"Yeah, it's like your advertising meth or X or something…" Stephanie added.

"We're here." with that Tank got everyone's attention back where it should have been—the task at hand.

"Alright—now I've had some guys staking out the place and they're telling me that Keelson shows up around 10:00 and stays till about 2:00, it's," he paused to check to his Swiss watch, "Twenty after eleven, should be drunk enough to be a prime target. Lula you've got to get him to say a price—it has to explicate, anything less and it's futile—Alli—Steph, you've got to get it in the mic, if we don't record it clearly it's pointless alright?"

The Three Amigo's nodded vigorously in understanding.

"Alright—your safe word if something should go wrong, or you feel uneasy is…" Ranger paused and visibly tried to hide a smile—this was very unlike him, he didn't smile and he certainly didn't have problems fighting them.

"Your word is concubine."

All three cursed.

"Cute, really cute—that come up on your Sexist Word A-Day-Calendar?" Cameron sniped.

"Tart," Tank commented.

"Who are calling a tart?" Stephanie jumped in.

"He wasn't calling her a tart, he was saying that her retort was pungent," Ranger clarified.

"Hey just cause he looks like an steroid abusing elephant doesn't mean he's stupid! He can speak for himself—can't you?" Lula made a valiant defense for the human wrecking ball, surprising everyone but Tank.

Tank just grunted quietly in affirmation.

"See what I mean?!"

"Hon, that was a grunt—not really considered a word in most languages," Stephanie pointed out.

"Hey!" Lula looked like the words said were fightin' words.

"Enough, now, you're ready to go—remember concubine…" Ranger reiterated.

There were three one finger salutes sent his way as they sashayed into The Vault Club and Lounge.

"Tank, double the guys on the perimeter—I've a feeling those three are going to raise hell."

Tank grunted.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Now—just follow my lead…I know what I'm doing," Lula shook her rear end like a maraca—or maybe it was like a Polaroid picture, but neither Stephanie or Cameron were ones to split hairs.

The club was loud with awesomely bad music from the seventies and eighties, the floor was black and white squares of laminate, and there was a disco ball and bongo lights on the ceiling. It smelled like stale beer, cheap wine and traces of surely heavily diluted spirits—or maybe that was deluded spirits shaking their money makers with as little panache and skill as Lula—for they had a smell as well—and it was called easy.

"I need a shower—I so need a shower, this place is nasty…" Cameron shuttered drawing herself into as small a presence as possible.

"Ditto—wait is that our mark?" Stephanie started to point to the end of mirror and bottle glass covered bar on the far wall.

"Don't point!" Cameron slapped her hand down.

"Fine—is that…" Stephanie jerked her head in the direction she had meant, "_him_?"

"Subtle Mata Hari," Cameron muttered, "I still don't see him…"

"Over _there_!" Stephanie jerked her head drawing out her words.

Cameron strained to see, and finally found him.

"I got him—cover me Bimbettes..." Lula headed out teetering on towering heels.

"Bimbettes?" Cameron and Stephanie mouthed silently to each other in wonder but the moment didn't last long because Lula was blazing a trail like Mel Brooks.

"Hey there my little sugar cookie…you want me to be your chocolate frosting?" Cameron heard Lula coo as she and Stephanie came up to flank either side.

Keelson was an average looking man with no memorable features—his face forgettable, which baffled Cameron as to how he ever got elected—how anybody managed to remember he was running—but this was Keelson the man—not the politician.

"Um…no thanks…" Keelson pulled back from Lula's cleavage she was pushing into his face. He backed into Cameron.

"Excuse me miss…" Keelson mumbled absently, but once he realized that his nose was in the V of Cameron's top that went nearly to her navel his attention suddenly perked, "Helllooo" he moved his eyes as slow as he drawled the renewed greeting, up her chest, neck, lips, nose and finally to her eyes.

Cameron tried not to squirm, her stomach was turning and she felt like she had just been violated.

"Not my type bub, sorry," she turned her body to the counter giving him the shoulder.

"Aw come on cupcake…how do you know I'm not your type?" he purred completely ignoring Lula—which she didn't like.

"Yo, buddy—she's not into you because you're a guy—see the brunette next to her—that's her type—get it? Me on the other hand—I'm all about guys…" Lula rubbed up against Keelson.

Cameron started to gasp but Stephanie elbowed her sharply in the spine.

"You're into girls…?"

Cameron would have slapped him hard for the lecherous glint and the bits of spittle gathered in the corners of his mouth—she was revolted but she couldn't risk pissing him off right now.

She could only imagine what they were saying in the truck…

"Yes she is—isn't that right Betty?" Lula widened her eyes, tightened her face as a way to try and covertly tell Cameron to go along.

Cameron responded in kind, thankfully Keelson was so plastered that he didn't notice as the women held their silent argument.

"Yeah, she's my man!" Stephanie finally grinned throwing her arm around Cameron's shoulders awkwardly, then slugged her arm as to make it all the more truth.

"Cool—I can dig that…can I watch you two…you know…" Keelson wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"No you can't! Me over here…hey, I don't like being ignored!" Lula grabbed Keelson's jacket and whirled him on his bar stool to look at her, "You're supposed to want me!"

Stephanie slapped her forehead trying to get Lula to focus on the fact that Keelson was just about ready to do the deed—it wasn't how it was planned but still it was more than Lula was getting.

"What were you saying?" Stephanie twirled the stool back.

"Hey! Bug off, he's mine!" Lula twirled back.

"No—he doesn't want to talk to you—you're just a cheap ho'" Cameron caught on to what Stephanie was angling at and took her turn spinning the stool.

"What did you say?" Lula shrieked charging at her but seemed to forget the drunken man between them and knocked into Keelson's legs making the stool jerk in a half twist. "I'm not nor was I eva cheap!"

Stephanie 'hmmph'ed and rolled her eyes in disbelief.

"Whatever," Cameron picked at her nails.

"Well that does it!" Lula slammed into Keelson again sending the stool into several circles that ended with Keelson hurling then falling off the stool—hitting his head and going out cold.

"Shit Lula!" Stephanie cried kneeling down to for a pulse—didn't want to kill him—least not till he called off the dogs from Cameron's boss.

"He's out cold! Lula we were trying to get him to offer to pay us to let him participate in a threesome! Didn't you see the signal?" Cameron sighed heavily, extremely frustrated.

"That's wasn't the plan! You're supposed to stick to the plan!" Lula bobbed her head with her hands on her hips.

"Plans change…" Stephanie sighed standing back up and backing a few steps away from Keelson who smelled horrid as he lay in his pool of vomit, which she slipped in and crashed into a man who being very inebriated stumbled also, dumping his white wine spritzer into the laps of several men at a nearby table.

"Ohmygosh…I am so totally sorry!" the skinny pallid man gushed with a giggle making to wipe up the drink up from one of the men's laps.

"Hey get away from me!" the man slapped the hands away, but the force was too much for the twig of a man and it sent him into Stephanie whose back was to him.

"Hey!" she turned around, "What's the idea?"

"You got a problem?" the three men who looked like miniature versions of Tank but a whole lot crazier stood from their table.

"Nope—no problem here…" Cameron soothed stepping to try and block Keelson who was still as out as a log.

"No, we got a problem—we got a problem if you've got a problem with Veronica here…" Lula bounced it.

Cameron closed her eyes shaking her head—this wasn't good.

"Yeah, you got a problem you big meanie?" the unidentified stick bobbed his head like Lula had done minutes before.

It took about .5 seconds for a full club brawl to start. There were flying chairs, broken bottles—which got that way by being slammed over heads. There was hair pulling, spitting and kicking.

"Hey you thug letgo my skirt! Get your nasty ass, fingers off me!" Lula screeched like a hen kneeing one of the original three in the gonads as she twisted around, he fell promptly to his knees.

"Concubine! Concubine!" Cameron yelled as a man knocked out by a flying amber glass bottle knocked her to the ground pinning her in pile of baby poop brown vomit that wasn't Keelson's.

"Are you offering?" a man slurring peering down at her from overhead. A little stream of drool started to stretch from his mouth as he swayed.

"CONCUBINE! CONCUBINE! CONCUBINE!" she cried nearly hysteric as the line of thick yellowish drool waved to and fro above her head.

"Honey, I'll be your master…" owner of said drool continued to grin above her, so drunk she wondered how he was still standing.

"Ranger….!" Cameron fought the one ton man on top her but it was fruitless.

"Hang on, darling I'm right here."

And much like a Kung Fu Ninja Ranger appeared silent and deadly to remove Guy with Drool and dispose of the man pinning her down.

It was awesome, heavy on the awe, the way Ranger grabbed the man by the collar and with a flick of the wrist threw him into a growing pile against the wall. It was also pretty awe inspiring the way no less than ten men of similar, but not near as big, stature as Tank, all dressed in black filled the space and moved knocked out people to the pile or broke up lingering fights with a mere whispered word, or well placed fist…whatever the situation called for.

"Hey if you're done doing the Dark Knight thing, I could use some help over here!" Stephanie growled obviously displeased with him. She had an unconscious Lula falling against her threatening to topple her.

"Tank," Ranger nodded him toward the women. Tank swooped in and took over management of Lula moving her to the waiting truck.

"Are you okay?" Ranger steadied Cameron with a firm grip on bother her arms, he sought eye contact. "Anything broken, did you hit your head when you fell?" he gently probed the back of her head; he found a small but swelling knot.

"I'm fine by the way…" Stephanie frowned.

"Stephanie—get some ice would you?" Ranger called still focused on Cameron.

"I'm fine really—it's not a big deal…" Cameron stuttered feeling uncomfortable.

"I could be bleeding, or I could be being mauled by some goon…but do you care? No! No, you just keep going on with Miss Doctor over there…I see how you are…it's like getting a new toy…" Stephanie lamented to the air, as nobody was even there to bother or to care, as she scooped ice from a container behind the bar.

"Now Babe…what makes you think just because I get new entertainment I'm not still interested in the familiar?"

Stephanie blinked, he moved too fast. Ranger came from behind to purr in her ear as he slowly turned her around, "Nobody looks as good in puke as you," he winked. Stephanie just about went to her knees and thought she just might have come. It was unfair, he could leave her feeling like her insides were jell-o with a wink, aw hell, he could do it with breathing! She was covered in puke, beer, and who knew (or wanted to know) what else and he had to go and do that Batman thing…it was disgusting!

He left her taking the towel filled with ice with him.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Cameron," she answered her cell while reclining on Stephanie's couch which had seen better—much better days.

"It's Wilson. Where are you?" he sounded indignant—and angry.

"Trenton, what's with the snippy attitude?" Cameron was defensive.

"I just got off the phone with House, he's not in a good mood…care to guess why?"

"I haven't foggiest and really, I've never been his keeper, that's your job," she didn't care at all for his tone.

"I turned in that title days ago—he's all yours. He's upset with you, he's been called by Michael—care to take a stab at what it was about?"

"Sure, but not with your pissy tone—don't you think I get enough of this with House that when I get it from you it becomes a little tiresome not mention redundant?" She stood from the couch moving to drop the few bits of her pizza crust into Stephanie's pet hamster, Rex's cage.

"Hey—I've got to deal with House, with the damn New Jersey Mob and if that weren't enough Cuddy's got PMS like you wouldn't believe!"

Cameron flinched, "Wilson—I don't want to know about Cuddy's PMS!"

"Hell Allison, guess what? I don't either—but I do! Now I need you to get back here and deal with House because he's going to start assaulting people again if you don't."

"You aren't making any sense, start back over with Greco calling you," she closed her eyes hand pressed to her forehead and she tried her utmost to focus even while her headache pounded.

"Greco called House—House called me and relayed information."

"Whatever—let's try you telling me what Greco said, I don't care how you came to have the information—be it House or a little birdie."

"Greco said that you were in Trenton trying to set up Keelson on prostitution—that you were doing this with a bounty by the name of Ranger Manoso—and a woman that is called The Bombshell Bounty Hunter…that you caused a brawl that is at this moment being splashed all over the Jersey news…"

Cameron should have been horrified, perhaps even disgusted, but instead she had absurd laughter bubbling up.

"Are you laughing? You shouldn't be laughing, if the press can connect you—any chance that we can get the cooperation of Rizzo family goes right down the toilet! Cameron…What were you thinking?"

She sucked in breath holding it trying to push her laughter down with it—but it didn't work, "It wasn't my fault!"

Wilson grunted, and Cameron was sure he was yanking at his hair. "It wasn't on purpose," she could see the scene still as vivid and appalling as it had been two hours before. "But frankly I'm tired of playing these games with Rizzo," her indignation was quickly overcoming her good humor "Yeah, I'm tired of sitting here waiting for someone fix this mess—I'm going to fix it myself if no one else will!"

"Cameron, we have Rizzo's promise—we said we'd wait…"

"Bull crap! I made no promise that would end with House sitting in a jail cell! I'm calling bull! Unless they want to get House out of holding right now I'm going to keep at what I'm doing! I'm going to get in front of every news camera that will have me and tell my story—every bit. I'm going to go to every newspaper and give them a copy of the pictures given to us by Rizzo—I'm tired of this! Bull crap! Every single bit of it! He did nothing wrong! So I'm going to go with any plan, or any family that acts like he did!"

"Cameron—please, just wait a little longer…" Wilson quickly got over his snotty anger as it was very apparent that Cameron meant to do everything she said. He had to defuse the situation, and quickly.

"Like I said, they get House back into his own apartment before noon tomorrow—well today—and I'll back off, otherwise the Bombshell, the Ho, The Tank, Ranger and I are going to continue on this path till he's out! Don't even try and persuade me otherwise!" she snapped the phone close shaking with aggression and fury.

"Listen bucko, you're not my dad, you're not the boss of me—you're not even my boyfriend at the moment, so you don't get to have _any_ opinion of what I do!" Stephanie stomped into the living room from the kitchen crappy Nokia cell phone to her ear while gesturing wildly—very Italian-ly as she talked--screamed.

"No, forget it, no making up this time—I don't care if Bob misses me! I don't want to see your face—she is my best friend and I am going to do everything I can to help her, I don't care if you think I'm insane, crazy or three nuggets short of a Happy Meal!" And as her cell wasn't a flip but rather a chunky, nearly prehistoric candy bar style, in lieu of snapping it shut to show her displeasure, she hit the end button and threw it on the floor and stomped on it.

"Easy Tarzan—you're out a phone now…" Cameron had to grab her arm to get her attention. "Morelli?" she asked even though it wasn't really necessary, she was sure it was.

"Don't care, he's being an ass, can't help that—and that phone was crap anyway…" Stephanie fumed.

Cameron had to agree about the phone…and Morelli but decided she had to least try and smooth things over, "He just cares about you—doesn't want to see you hurt."

"No that isn't it—he just wants to see me in an apron, barefoot and pregnant at the stove! He's Italian!"

Cameron covered a smile with her hand, "True, but he's better than most—you have to admit that."

"Yeah, and I do—he's a hell of guy when he's acting sane, but when he pulls stuff like this…" she growled angrily.

"Just remember he loves you, he really does—and he's a good guy. He's protective of you which isn't a bad thing, it's good…"

"This isn't protective, it's dominating and suffocating!"

Cameron didn't have a reply so they silently sat on opposite ends of the couch. Then perhaps because Cameron was in a very weird place, or because she didn't want think about her own complicated as a Rubik's Cube relationship, it became very clear to her what was going on with Stephanie and Joe Morelli.

"You don't love him."

"What?" Stephanie jumped like she'd been poked with a hot iron.

"Morelli—you don't really love him," Cameron turned to look at her calmly.

"I don't know what you're…" Stephanie's voice was too high pitched, too squeaky to be sincere.

"Yes you do. You care about him sure, you've been in each other lives too long to not, but if you really loved him in the way that you should…you'd be married to him and you wouldn't be this riled because he was upset that you were in the middle of bar brawl…Steph, I'm your friend and I don't want to see you hurt or in a life you don't want…" Cameron sighed quietly, "But you know I'm right."

Stephanie folded her arms glaring and refusing to answer.

"If you really care about him you'll tell him the truth—you'll let him go."

"Who asked you?" Stephanie muttered staring intently at Rex on his little hamster wheel.

"You're creating arguments, fights—you take exception to everything—you're purposely baiting him with Ranger because you want him to walk away first so you can be the angry wounded one…" Stephanie didn't protest so Cameron went on, "You told me a while back that you always felt like a screw up, that you couldn't ever be what everyone thought you should be. You were never good like your sister…never measured up, you said. I think—I think that you're hanging on to this relationship because you don't want to fail at one more thing…and if he were to leave first—well he'd be the mess-up not you…right?"

Stephanie bit her lip, tightening her grip on her arms; Cameron saw her tremble, saw the tears pushing the dam.

"I understand…"

Stephanie went into full water works, there was sobbing, hiccupping, gasping and moaning, "I reall—ll—ll—y love him…I jusssst dooonn'ttt _love_ him!"

Cameron realized that tonight would be a TaskyKake, Corona and lots of viewings of Ghost Busters and Ghost—their favorite movies respectively, night.

"I'll go get the stuff…" Cameron rose grabbing for her keys and purse.

"Don't forget to get the Krimpets and Snowballs…" Stephanie hiccupped looked extremely pathetic.

"I won't," Cameron promised mentally adding '_or the alcohol…lots and lots of alcohol._

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

'


	14. PART 2, Chapter 9

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

By the time Patrick Swayze was making out with Demi Moore via Whoopi Goldberg at the end of Ghost there were enough tears to sink a battleship.

"It is so sad…" Wailed Stephanie.

"I…I…knnnoooow! I want to be Demi…" Cameron licked the salt off the rim of her glass which held her out of the tub mixed margarita.

"Not that…I'm out of beer…" Stephanie whimpered tipping the bottle back trying in vain to get even a couple more drops out it.

Cameron giggled, "You're a drunk…"

"Am not!"

"Are to," Cameron focused on the grains of salt that had somehow ended up on the tip of her nose, till her eyes crossed.

"I don't love Morelli." The statement was quick and precise.

"I know," Cameron answered still looking cross-eyed at the salt.

"I just figured it out…" Stephanie hiccupped.

"I know."

"How do you know? I mean really…"

"I know everything," Cameron answered nodding trying to get the salt to move.

"For pete's sake!" Stephanie reached over and a little harshly swept the salt from her friends' nose, "Be serious for a second would ya?!"

Cameron glared, "I am! You don't love Morelli, I get it—have gotten in for the last six months…you love Ranger."

"I do not! I don't even really know Ranger!" Stephanie answered a bit too quickly, a bit too emphatically.

"Maybe not…but he wakes you up doesn't he? He makes you feel alive…he makes you feel like everything is just a little clearer, a little brighter…he makes you want to fly…" Cameron's voice held a far off quality as her eyes focused on the ceiling but wasn't at all seeing it.

"Yeah…" Stephanie answered dreamily looking at the same spot on the ceiling, but not being quite the romantic that Cameron was, saw only the peeling spackle.

"You love Morelli too though…" Cameron crinkled her eyes at the popcorn spackle swearing she saw a defiant chin with a few days of stubble somewhere there.

Stephanie frowned heavily, "Thought you said I didn't…"

"You don't…"

Stephanie screamed, "BUT YOU JUST SAID I DID!"

"Yep…and I'm right…" Cameron pulled her gaze to Stephanie—continuing before she was interrupted again, "You do love Morelli in that way ex lovers, who were lovers for a long time do…you love him but you're never going to be happy with him…But that's not to say you'd be happy with Ranger either…" Cameron sounded strangely philosophical.

"How does this help me?" Stephanie unwrapped a TastyKake munching in two bites.

It was Cameron's turn to frown, "It doesn't really…"

Stephanie threw the wrapper at her, "Remind me to have you over more often, you so full of insight."

The snarky sarcasm wasn't missed by Cameron…in fact it was very much caught and it made her think very much of another who's snarky wit was unsurpassed. She started to cry.

"What in heaven's name? Why are _you_ crying? I'm the one that loves two different guys!" Stephanie looked uncomfortably at her friend.

"I'm crying because I love only one man…and he's in jail!"

Stephanie found roles all too reversed and it wasn't pleasant. Consoling wasn't her forte. "It's going to be okay…I promise…here…have a cake," Stephanie shoved several foil wrapped goodies her way.

"I want House…I want him to out of jail, I want him okay…I want this nightmare over! I was shot dammit…I WAS SHOT! I don't need this stress! It's not fair…it just isn't fair! I've been sane, I've been supportive through his whole ordeal—I have, I really have…but I'm getting a little bone weary here…I mean really…how much do they expect one woman to take?!"

Stephanie patted her arm, she had a sudden appreciation for the men in her life, she might not have a clue to which her heart belonged but they were content to wait, they were both amazing men…they were always there for her and they were damn good at the whole consoling/comforting thing… this was somewhat of an epiphany for her—she didn't deserve either of them.

Before long both women were crying uncontrollably neither any good at making the other feel better. Cameron cried from frustration, anger and just plain grief while Stephanie sobbed because frankly her life was screwed up and her love life involved two men that adored her and protected her and—well loved her—but she didn't love one and didn't really know the other. Cameron cried over injustice, Stephanie wailed for melodramatic angst which was her life.

A half hour into Ghost Busters both were sound asleep.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"My head hurts."

"Don't talk so loud dammit!" Cameron held her swimming, throbbing head between her hands, elbows resting on the small dining table.

"I want fries and a coke…" Stephanie moaned pressing her forehead to the cool Formica top stomach rolling like the friggin' Atlantic.

"Shh," Cameron covered her ears frowning deeply crinkling her nose.

Steph had her mouth open to retort but instead of sarcasm there came two hard loud knocks. They looked at each other confused then turned to the front door which was opening.

"Shit, get your gun…or your taser or something—there is someone coming in!" Cameron jumped up, but regretted the action at once—she nearly pulled a Keelson and vomited on the floor.

"No, it's either Morelli or Ranger—don't ask me how they do it but both manage to get in like fog…I've given up trying to keep them out." Stephanie didn't even flinch, "It's nice—usually they don't even knock…must be because I have company," she further reflected turning both cheeks to the cool table.

Cameron looked sickly green as she retook her chair but it had nothing to do with men coming in the apartment.

"Babe—Doc, you two don't look so great," Ranger, not Morelli came through the door followed by a distinct wave of French fry aroma—and the human tank.

"Well we feel a whole lot worse," Stephanie groaned hand extended toward him.

"You know, sometimes I think you take me for granted," Ranger smirked but put a bag of fries in her hand and a large Coke on the table beside her.

"Probably," she grumped not lifting up her head as he shoved the deep fried goodness toward her mouth.

Ranger shook his head turning to Cameron who hadn't heard a word rather preoccupied trying to keep the room from spinning. "You my dear didn't seem the Plum Cure kind—I think this'll be better, alright?" Ranger got Cameron's attention but could tell by her glazed eyes she didn't process what he was saying. He smiled kindly, squeezed her shoulder then headed to the counter where he mixed up one of his patent pending 'hang over cure-alls'.

Cameron watched him dazed as he mixed all sorts of odd looking things into a tall glass then set it before her. One whiff and she was sure she was going to hurl on his combat boots. "Uck," she groaned shrinking away.

"It smells worse than it is…" he assured though his eyes were on Stephanie who still had her head on the table and was shoving French fries into her mouth slowly with alternating sips on her coke—her color was slowly returning.

"Just down it as quickly as you can alright _querido_," he coaxed.

She made a face that he almost laughed at. It was of an ornery, stubborn and slightly fearful two year old.

"What's _querido__?" _Stephanie perked.

"Darling," Ranger directed at Stephanie but kept focus on Cameron, "It'll make you feel better I promise."

Cameron scowled which if House had seen it would have been most proud of. Ranger was determined and after all she couldn't feel worse so with a wicked glare at him chugged the mysterious concoction and fought the urge to throw up which didn't come. An eyebrow of awe met question arched at him.

"Told you; now go get cleaned up—both of you, we've got to get Cameron back to Princeton and you Babe, have got about five skips waiting on you."

"But she can't go back yet! We've got to get her boss out of lock up!"

"Which is exactly what's been done."

"WHAT?!" both Cameron and Stephanie blinked.

"While you two sleeping beauties were sleeping off margaritas and who knows what else," Ranger gave a cursory glance to the alcohol bottles and all the cry fest debris, "House was arraigned and released on 50k bail."

The mouths of both women fell. "How…who bailed him out?" Cameron looked thoroughly perplexed.

"It was a joint effort—your friend Dr. Wilson put the up the upfront money and Vinnie did the bond," Ranger made a motion to check his watch, "Your guy should be just getting comfortable on his couch now as we speak."

Cameron burst into tears again and threw herself into Ranger, "Thank….thank you…I was just sure they wouldn't give him bail…I….I…just thank you okay?" she cried into his shoulder.

Ranger hugged her said he was happy to do it but his eyes were locked onto Stephanie's and he gave her a small smile.

"Tank is going to follow you home alright? Just to make sure you don't have any trouble…" Ranger further when Cameron finally pulled away rubbing furiously at her eyes.

"Al…alright," she nodded, "I don't know how to thank you enough…" she gave a weak watery smile.

"No sweat, if there is anything else you need don't hesitate about calling alright?" he tucked errant hair behind both her ears. She nodded nose and eyes red.

Satisfied Ranger nodded dismissing her to go and change.

Stephanie was giving a good scowl of her own, "You're awful teddy bear squishy today…" she huffed.

Ranger straddled a chair, "I do the same thing when you're upset," he offered causally.

"I know…but…" she bit her lip.

"But what?" he turned to look at her resisting a smile at her obviously disgruntled attitude.

"But she's not me…"

"Very astute Babe," he replied dryly.

Her expression turned wounded.

"It's not fun having completion is it?" he rose from the chair giving her a look that said 'think about that' and headed off toward the living room.

Stephanie was appalled. She was used to it with Joe and Terry Gilman that little inking of doubt—that spring of jealously…but never with Ranger—she thought she was it…she realized this was folly now.

Face filled with hurt and heart filled regret that was quickly turning to anger she started to march off for the bedroom.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Thank you for all your help Steph—it means a lot…but I'm sorry to have pulled you into the middle of it all…" Cameron hugged Stephanie tightly.

"No problem—what are friends for?" Stephanie grinned.

Cameron nodded grateful, more grateful then she could possibly say. She wordlessly turned to Ranger—there truly were no words that would be right to thank a man what helped you to dress like a slut, pretend to be a lesbian, make you yell 'concubine' and get the man you love out of jail. She was pretty sure they didn't even make a Hallmark for that—but she'd check when she got back home.

"Not a problem Doc—glad to help," Ranger gave her a wink as she climbed into House's Corvette. He followed it with a nod to Tank who entered the big black SUV that was started ready to follow her.

Stephanie and Ranger waved her off till the car pulled around the corner and they couldn't see her anymore.

"Get plenty of good thinking done?" Ranger spoke but didn't look at Stephanie—if he did he was sure he would grin and that wouldn't be good for either of them.

"Yeah. I think you're a jerk!" Stephanie grunted stomping off back towards her apartment with thoughts of slamming and locking the door even thought in the very back tip point of mind she knew locks were useless against him.

Her arm was grabbed and she was hauled back against Rangers very familiar, very firm, very nice chest—but even with his prodding refused to look at him.

"You flirted with her," she stuck her bottom lip out. She felt him shake with laughter.

"Yes, I did."

Her head jerked up and he took the opportunity to kiss her. She was kissing back before she thought clear enough to not.

"You are a no good jerk!" she tried to hit but her fists were hopelessly caught.

"Perhaps—but it was to teach you a lesson—feelings are not trifles, I was, to her way of thinking because she's hopelessly in love with that doctor of hers, attentive and caring, to you I was flirting because you have feelings for me and didn't like it that I was showing attention to an unattached female."

She didn't show any reaction.

"You love me Babe…" he was arrogantly sure of himself.

"So what if I do?! Do you think I want to?" she grunted struggling against him.

He tilted his head, "Doesn't matter—doesn't change that you do."

She glared and glared hard.

"It wasn't just a lesson though…" Ranger smiled long and slow, "I did it because I knew it meant something to you—because she was your friend…I did it to make you happy…" he tipped her chin with thumb. "Because it makes me happy when you are…"

She dissolved into a puddle of tear with her forehead leaned against his chest shaking with that infuriating laughter

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"House?!" Cameron bust through the unlocked door of House's apartment nearly frantic in her search of him, but clear headed enough to remember to go the window and wave out to Tank letting him know she had made it inside safely. She was almost sad to see the Tank drive off—she had built up a fondness for his grunts and brute strength. Still she turned back to search for House.

"_HOUSE?!_" she cried a little more urgently this time as she threw open the bedroom door. Her heart beat steadied when she saw his outlined form under the tossed and rumpled sheets. Her pace was near slow motion to his bedside compared with her previous speed.

It was still early evening but the fall moon shown in the window casting shadows on his face still tinted with green and purple bruises. Her heart clutched and her stomach felt like it had been hit with a brick. Trenton had felt like a world away—almost like stepping foot into an alternate reality what with zany Stephanie and unbelievable Lula…it was very much different. But this, this was so real, so stark and unreal at the same time…this made her ache.

"Oh Greg…" she whispered tracing her finger gently along his cheek where the cuts were just starting to fade. He groaned suddenly and she jumped thinking she had hurt him, her gasp—not her calling his name had his eyes flying open.

"Cameron? Is everything alright?!" he demanded sitting up still obviously bleary but concern evident and prevailing.

"Yes…yes…" was all she could manage, but it was thankfully enough, he calmed.

"You're back," he stated looking intently at the up-turned face of the woman on her knees by his bed.

She nodded.

"'Bout time," he grumbled.

She smiled, not even his gruffness would chafe this moment, "I was only gone a day…"

'No, two days…" he corrected alluding to the darkness out the window.

"Okay fine, two days, one night…" she stood waving her hands at him.

"What?" he looked confused.

"Scoot over," she demanded,

He did as he was told, but told himself it was because he was still dazed from sleep, not that he was really being docile and compliant, he had reputation to maintain even to himself.

She climbed under the covers into his still warm but vacated spot. He looked at her curiously but settled onto his half finding himself strangely more at ease with her there.

Silence hung and so many unsaid things passed between them, some were apologies, some were impish allusions to implications of sharing a bed…but all were peaceful and a kind of balm to both their trouble spirits. Neither had realized how much they needed the other, even in the simple moments of being—it soothed to have someone so in tune, so apart of one's self that every thought, every feeling passed seamlessly between.

"This won't do!" Cameron grumbled turning on her side to punch her pillow."

House lying on his back cracked open one eye, then lifted his arm soundlessly. She smiled faintly as she slid over laying her head on his chest, his arm came down over her, cradling her to him and almost instantly they were both asleep and unbelievable content.

* * *

_**Okay—finally, I think I've gotten myself straightened out…I finished my unplanned detour into the realm of Plum which was really a rather pointless excursion meant to just give me time to try and figure out the rest of my story—and I think (I hope, cross fingers, knock on wood) that I've done that. I hope you've enjoyed in spite of my floundering, I tried to make my water treading fun, disguise it as it were ;-) As always your support and continued reviewing is just so awesome, I can't thank you enough! With Lots of love, RaeAnne**_


	15. PART 2, Chapter 10

_**So sorry for the delay!! I do truly apologize. I hadn't meant for it to take this long, truly I didn't—and I haven't even a good excuse. But I think we are finally winding down…I hadn't realized this story was so long…I'm rather shocked actually! I hope you're still enjoying—thanks so much for your reviews and support you are so awesome, it's much **__**much**__** appreciated With Love--RA (oh, and in a bit of rush to get this up I may not have proof read it well as I should have, so if there are mistakes, as I am sure there will be, I do hope you'll forgive! Thanks :-)  
**_

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

Cameron and House sat in chairs facing the large but cheap desk, behind them standing in a semi circle of intimidating stares was Wilson and Cuddy flanked on either side by Chase and Foreman.

"You can't really be serious…it's not sound…it's just not sound! Are you all mad?" JT Eisenhower public defender appointed to second chair House gasped. He was a plump man resembling a dough boy with a shiny plate, small round eyes that showed shock very well. He was clearly distressed over the group's latest news.

"I mean its bad enough that the attorney-client privilege is highly compromised by you all being here…" Eisenhower waved his hand which clutched a sweaty handkerchief which he used wiped over his brow distressingly, at the four plus Cameron.

The bow of doctors behind the accused raised skeptical eyebrows.

"Then really—it's a pretty damn good thing you're not my attorney then huh?" House smirked ruefully.

Eisenhower flapped rubbery lips in distaste. "But…a trial in two weeks…can't build a case! Certainly not…no, no, no, not sound I tell you!"

"I'm not guilty…I was within complete scope of self defense, only if I were guilty and trying to get away with something would I need more than two weeks to compile something to say…" House clenched his jaw tightly fighting to remain calm.

"You don't know how the law works Dr. House…no, not at all…" Eisenhower continued to mop his ever wetting, abundant forehead as he shook his head ever appearing to be talking to himself more than those sitting in his office. "And opting for a Judge trial? Insanity! If I do say! You're whole case is about sympathy! About understanding the desperation of having your girlfriend shot in front of you….and whom better to feel this than twelve of your peers I ask you!"

"Since you've only known House a couple of days I'll take this time to educate you…" Cameron tried not to smile as she leaned forward in her chair, "This seemingly harmless looking…"

"Hey, speak for yourself," House took exception.

Cameron ignored him, "man who is a doctor, so you've assumed he has some warm, kind, humanitarian streak in him but let me assure you right now that that thought is folly! He doesn't. He is in fact, very much a bastard."

Eisenhower's small eyes widened to the span of small salad plates, lips flapping with incredible speed and spittle. He was astounded.

"Thanks for the props babe, feels good," House tapped his hand against his heart in a show of deep, mocking gratitude and sincere emotion.

"Anytime darlin'," she batted her eyelashes blowing him a kiss.

"I can attest to that," Foreman raised his hand.

"I…second _that_ emotion," Chase grumbled flippantly.

Every single pair of eyes, even Eisenhower's turned to stare at Chase; he looked utterly confused, "What?"

"Seriously…? You Brit's don't listen to Smokey and The Miracles?" House looked disgusted.

"What? …and I'm Australian!" Chase gestured for lack of anything else to release his frustration.

"The difference would be?" House waved his fingers absently—as if he couldn't, even if tried really hard, care less.

Chase was ready to snap back but Cameron cleared her throat, "As I was saying…House isn't exactly Brad Pitt…"

"Cameron!" House turned toward her irritation beyond evident, "For pete's sake!"

"Well you're not—I don't see you adopting kids and building homes in Louisiana…"

"Well you're sure as hell aren't Angelina Jolie!" he fired back.

Confusion played across Cameron's face for a moment, "House I wasn't comparing looks…to me you're ten times the man Brad Pitt is," she patted his hand which rested on the arm of the chair, "I was just saying that you aren't a humanitarian…now please stop being so sensitive!"

"I'm not sensitive—isn't that what you're telling him Jabba here?"

Cameron frowned, "Anyway—Mr. Eisenhower, House though a brilliant doctor, a phenomenal diagnostician is a prickly, curmudgeon, brutally honest human being…and people don't warm up to him well. Frankly we have the law on our side which I'm afraid like House, is brutal and blunt without shades of grey, or at least should be, and it's on the law we have to count. People are swayed by what they see…a judge has to be, and hopefully will be, only governed by the letter of the law not House's sarcasm…we need a judge—not a jury."

The half of PPTH hospital's staff which was in Eisenhower's office straightened their shoulders in silent solidarity with their elected spokesperson.

"I…I think I understand what you're saying Dr. Cameron…but I still say it just isn't sound…not sound at all," Eisenhower shook his head so much that his jowls jaunted about rather like a poor boxer hound; then with another swipe at his brow resigned himself to the plan laid out so plainly before him.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"Well that was fun," Wilson noted dryly leading the group threw the doors of a dive a block from Eisenhower's office.

Cameron smirked but dipped her head to cover it. Cat Tail Dinner was a dive of the most ostentatious variety. The façade was bright green with indistinguishable graphics vaguely reminiscent of cattails in drab fading brown. The windows splotchy gave view to mismatched deeply pocked dinner tables with even more badly matched chairs. They were all painted various shades of neon colors which were barely saved from being blinding by the dullness of age. The booths which were hit and miss around the perimeter where upholstered in varying Naugahyde patterns of animal hide.

"This place doesn't look sanitary," Chase observed, his sentiment was shared but now that he had made the statement it was no longer necessary that the others concur—they were more than happy to let him be the perceived wimp.

"Wimp," House smiled cheekily pushing open the double 50ies style doors, which were completely at odds with the almost Bohemian décor…if the place was to try and be described in a single style.

"Well—says seat yourself," Foreman pointed a sign.

"Actually it says 'have a f—ing seat—_now'_" Cuddy corrected reading the red and gold sign aloud.

"Glad you cleared that up because you know—we can't read," House led the way to the largest table that was visible.

"Do you think there is a reason this place is empty?"

"This place has the best hamburgers you'll ever eat…so just shut up and sit," House didn't take too kindly to Foreman's question.

"Okay," Cameron mouth silently shaking her head slightly but took one of five chairs that surrounded the table.

"Where am I supposed to sit?" Chase was left without a chair once the remainder of the group had seated themselves.

"The floor?" House sounded all too hopeful.

"Yes—did you ever see that movie Just Visiting? We can throw you scraps—just stay away from the magical blue fountain alright?" Wilson grinned though tone characteristically dry.

Chase mimicked a snotty face.

"Pull up a chair genius," Cameron held back a laugh.

The snotty face grew in magnitude.

"So, you picked the place, what's good?" Wilson flipped open a sticky menu that was on the table.

"First of all put that down, I'll tell you what you're getting."

The five raised eyebrows in pure, unadulterated skepticism.

"We'll start with Chase," House flicked a mean wicked smile, "#8—the Burger Belafonte…it's got pineapple goes well with the Calypso music you see—you get this because…well because let's face it, you are rather fruity."

Chase rolled his eyes too used to the barbs to care.

"Now Cuddy for you…it's about the #666, the burger is topped with a special salsa made with Scotch Bonnet peppers and several other chilies reminiscent of the third ring of hell—I figure it'll be like a dinner at home!

"Foreman—you're a #56, buffalo burger, with a screamin' steamin' helping of soul food chili—and all American cheddar and a side of sweet potato fries—and yes you can thank me now."

"Wilson—you're a #11. Portobello cap burger with sweet onions…and why sweet onions you ask? Well I'd think it obvious—you're too sweet for words but love to cry…but moving on…Last but not least Cameron…" House pondered this one for a fraction of a second, "You're a 10, American Kobe beef—decadent but not as flashy as true Japanese Kobe…on a whole wheat Kaiser roll with essence of garlic and slivers of aged white cheddar…slices of thick cut bacon with the deep smoke lying across giving its support of flavor without deterring from the main attraction. Only the perfect amount of other condiments play accompaniment to this delicious burger… and let's not forget the side of hand cut, twice fried, slightly season _pom__ frites_."

Every mouth was hanging open and all were salivating.

"Whatever—what about you? Which are you oh great Wizard of Beef?" Wilson challenged haughtily.

"Why, I'm a seven, naturally—as I am perfect," he smiled.

Cuddy pulled the menu over scanning till seven then read aloud, "The House (MD) Special…quarter pound beef patty topped with corned beef, slices of Swiss cheese, served on a rye bun with French fries and side order of House Special Sauce, a mixture of Thousand Island dressing and tartar sauce for dipping. Not served with pickles."

House made a little wave as if to say 'but of course you idiots, do you think I would have anything but?'.

The group rolled their eyes.

It took about forty five minutes but soon everyone had dropped their napkins and exhaled that sated happy breath that could only come from a good meal. The dishes were unceremoniously cleared and coffee cups filled—it was time for work.

"Don't you find it a bit—anomalous that we are discussing defense strategy in this place?" Cuddy, who though enjoyed her burger and reluctant to admit it, couldn't help but feel ill at ease discussing something as serious as 'court' in the ramshackle one step away from being shut down by the health department dive masquerading as diner.

"Anomalous? Wilson you need to take away her thesaurus—seriously. Perhaps Cat Tails is an irregular place to swap legal jargon but I don't think, this—our ragtag group, will be doing a lot of that." House grinned much like a narcissistic evil Cheshire cat.

Cuddy pressed her lips till a thin line formed, "Excuse me for having an education."

"You're excused. Now moving on—has anyone been in touch with Greco? Seeing as how I've been in lock up I need to be filled in with these details." House started the round—well rectangle table.

"I've been," Wilson raised his hand, "He says that the situation hasn't really changed, but that he's running a line that is looking conspicuously to be between officer Jefferies and the Pavarotti family—they are a small underling family of the Rizzo's…word is that they have been trying to break away for the last few years, garnering strength to do so by feeding a select well placed number of officer henchman—no clear evidence yet, but Mathis might be on the take as well."

"I've spoken with Rizzo, he still is reluctant to let us use the photographs but I don't think he heard that last bit of news regarding the Pavarotti's, this I would think would change his perspective a bit. I'd think they'd want to bring down Keelson if Keelson is in bed with both families…" Cameron added her bit to the mix.

"Unless Keelson is unaware that Jefferies has switched sides and is still operating under the assumption that he is under control of Rizzo's," Foreman offered.

Cuddy was wide eyed and horrified, "Please tell me you don't mean the New Jersey crime families Greco and Rizzo?" she held her breath praying they didn't.

"Well you see Cuddy…" House gave his innocent smile, which wasn't at all innocent.

By the time group had finished explaining the situation Cuddy was striving hard not to hyperventilate. "House…" she heaved in air…"Wilson…" deadly, acid spitting, knife wielding, agony inducing eyes pieced the placid oncologist to the quick.

"And you three!" Cuddy was turning a shade of red no one had previously seen. "What am I going to do? Really, I ask you what in hell am I supposed to do?"

"Easy there Cuddyinator, simmer down before you blow," House offered kindly, he was rather enjoying the temper.

"I will not! Do you realize the jeopardy you've put the hospital in? Do you care?! House, I expect this from you—your…your ducklings too…but Wilson?" she turned on him like a rapid dog. "I didn't expect this from you…"

"Hey—I'm doing what I feel has to be done. I don't like it, I don't approve of the mob but at this point if they aren't playing by the rules I'm not going let House go to jail while I stand on useless grounds of so called principle…" Wilson stated firmly without room for question or quail.

Cuddy blinked, swallowed then blinked again. "Okay…okay if you really think this is our only option."

House and his ducklings blinked, the fire and brimstone which was their boss had stilled, she was as docile as Wilson now…"Well what was that?" House barked.

"What?" Cuddy and Wilson echoed.

"That! You just shut her down and she listened…what was that?"

Cameron caught on first, perhaps because she was female, perhaps just because she was more astute to those kinds of things but whatever the reason she burst, "They're together!"

Attention was turned to Cameron who nodded emphatically to the blushing Cuddy and Wilson, then like cartoon heads turned to the other end of the table where the accused sat.

"Shit." Chase voiced yet again the common though.

"Well this changes things a bit."

"How?" Wilson demanded.

"Well for one I now have something to hold over you…come on Wilson—doing the boss? This is going to provide the hospital fodder for years!" House kept grinning.

"You're one to talk—you and Cameron—that's just as bad," Cuddy argued vainly.

"So not! Nice try…seriously bravo." House mocked.

"How is it not?" Wilson demanded.

"I'm me, you're not—that's how it's not…"

Cuddy gave a good mocking shrill of a laugh.

"Okay, as much I like this bantering of love lives what do you say we get down to business?" Cameron interjected, effectively calling the match on the account of rain—or attempted murder charges as it were.

"Fine, party pooper, we were so winning this one…" House sighed but pushed back his chair relaxing a bit.

"Okay, we've got to figure out how we are going to approach this…" Cameron took charge with surprising ease, "Chase, what are the charges…" she asked while pawing through her oversized shoulder bag finally coming up with a yellow tablet and pen.

"Well at the arraignment it was, 'attempted murder', 'assault', and 'assault of an officer' which is like some degree and what not, I don't remember all of it but yeah, that's basically the run down."

Cameron nodded scribbling it down then pushing it to the center of the table so everyone could get a look.

"Okay—attempted murder is obviously on March…I assume the assault charge is for when he went back to the room?" Wilson pondered.

"I believe so—and the assault on the office is pretty self evident," Foreman shrugged, he and Chase were the only ones in the court room at the time of the reading of the charges, Wilson was with Cuddy rounding up the bail money—hoping that he would get bail.

"Alright—we know the charges, now we need to list the ways we can refute them," Cameron tore off the paper leaving it in the middle of the table going to once again scribble on the pad.

"March because he shot Cameron…it was self defense and in defense of others," Foreman lifted a causal shoulder.

"Right—but we have to explain the excessive force…," Chase reminded folding a leg over the other leaning back in his chair, neck on the back.

"Temporary insanity?" Cuddy waved sardonically.

"I like it…" House smirked.

"Yeah, problem being I don't think it's so temporary—more like since birth," Wilson sighed.

"Yes that could be a problem…but moving on," Cameron shook out her hand, her notes were comprehensive.

"Well I think we are all operating under the assumption that what happened was undue force if the man had been unarmed…I think we aren't giving enough due to the fact March had a gun! I'm sure we can get Bev down in Psych to testify that a person's mental state is very different when present with a threat with a gun then with a threat with a fist—or knife for that matter or something less deadly than a gun. If we can make a case that states a person gets like 'tunnel vision' or some other term, I'm sure they have a very professional one for it, when threatened with a gun and because of this can only react to disarm the threat and as was the case with House perhaps seemingly overreact to ensure harm didn't continue…if we can give argument that House was acting with what he perceived to be the right amount of force… perhaps we can elicit a not-guilty verdict."

"Dude, Foreman—been brushing up on your Court TV?" House looked impressed.

Cuddy seemed deep in thought, "Okay, taking that into account—what about the assault? What reason would House have to seek out March if the threat had been eliminated?"

The group was silent.

"We can keep going over this one till we're blue in the face…I think it's black and white self defense, maybe we should focus some more of our effort on the one charge we know the least about…" Wilson rolled the sleeves of his shirt to the elbows, mimicking the other three men at the table.

"The assault on Officer Mathis…I don't think I'm alone in knowing oh about this much," Wilson held his fingers up to show a fraction of a fraction of an inch.

The nods were all in the affirmative, all the eyes were again on House.

"Fine—if we must, we must," House sighed.

They settled back to enjoy the sure to be interesting narrative...

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_**TBC **_


	16. PART 2, Chapter 11

_I am so sorry for the extreme delay in this update—its deplorable and I so terribly sorry…and if I wasn't already asking enough by hoping you forgive this incalculable delay I might ask you to please take this update with a bit of sympathy…it was terrible to write and I struggled with it so much I nearly gave it up all together… It most likely doesn't feel in the same vein as the previous few chapters I just couldn't get it to flow right…_

_Also a thank you to those you've staid by waiting and a huge thanks to __**SilvaK**__—you girl__, have__ kept __me__ going with encouragement, if not for you this chapter would only be part written and plaguing me still. _

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The character of every act depends upon the circumstances in which it is done.  
Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr.

"Go ahead Dr. House."

He was still, cold, statue you like. It didn't matter that the charges mounted against him could put him away for 10-15 years, that it would cause him to lose his license to practice medicine…that his life would end in just about every respect. What did matter was the woman sitting behind his table—in his corner, the woman firmly planted in his heart. He could be stoic about possibly losing everything as long as he knew he couldn't lose her. He kept his eyes on her—it was for her, everything he had done, everything he would ever do was for her—to protect her, to keep her, to love her.

"It was just after eleven, my team and I were starting a dialog on our most recent case… I was at the wipe-off board, my team at the table…"

"Could you please state their names for the record?" the Judge broke in.

"Robert Chase, Eric Foreman and Allison Cameron," House still kept calm, even toned. "A man came in the door; I didn't recognize him, he said he was looking for Dr. Cameron…" There was a pause but only Cameron caught it.

"I replied that it was the skinny brunette. The man turned to the table; Dr. Cameron rose from her chair, I went back to the board. I heard a click, I turned around just as the man pulled the trigger, and I saw Dr. Cameron go down. Before I realized what was happening there was another shot. I don't remember clearly what happened next. But I know that I beat him, I beat him till I felt my cane crack…" the pause was audible by all now and so was the shake in the doctors' voice.

"Marcus March shot, nearly killed my doctor…Allison Cameron, that woman sitting in the front row. He pulled out a gun and he shot her—deliberately…not once but twice…" House was no longer stoic.

"Objection! He's narrating, not testifying! I want his last statements stricken from the record…" the prosecutor stood grounding out words bitterly—loudly.

"Your honor," House turned in the witness chair demanding the judge to look at him. "We've spent hours talking about March…we've spent… so much time talking about him…what about her story?" Bone weary, it was all over him, seeping out in his eyes, in his voice and in his weary face.

"Over ruled council, we will hear Dr. House's story," Judge John Winston glared down at the overeager, young prosecutor who looked un-thrilled at the answer but retook his seat—albeit dramatically.

House kept his eyes just to the left of Cameron's shoulder. He needed to see her to continue but knew that if he saw her face he would no longer be able to speak.

His words continued to come, though he didn't know from where, he answered Eisenhower's preplanned and rehearsed questions. The courtroom was quiet, even that ever-present murmur of gallery voices was silent as the story was told from the second most affected person there.

It dawned on House then as his heart constricted strangely in his chest, this was it; once he stepped from the witness box to retake his place at the table for the accused the defense would rest, it would be up to the judge to dole guilt as well as punishment…it would be all over and it terrified him.

It wasn't the bars, the cell…or even the years, as living in a dark, cold hole had been what he had been doing for years and actually enduring it with an incredibly small amount of displeasure. It was losing this new freedom, this new passion that he had found with Cameron that was making it so that his breath hitched quite uncomfortably. He loved her endlessly, his heart was hers and he didn't realize how fully till now, now that he could possibly lose her again. He loved her. He needed her. He could not live without her—would not.

He was vaguely aware that people were staring at him, he was almost hyperventilating, but that didn't matter. There was surely a question left to answer hanging in the air, but it really didn't matter. A new reason to fight was bounding through his chest. It was self-preservation that had him rallying. He was fighting for her, that woman across the room, but now he was also fighting for himself. He was fighting for life, his life with her, which was the only way he was willing to live it.

"I know what I did was outrageous, I know that undoubtedly what Marcus March did he did because of a complication of his disease but what is actually on trial here is not March, but me and my actions and what caused them.

"I beat March because he harmed a person that means more to me than the world, he almost killed the woman I love more than I have ever loved anything" he paused to laugh quietly, cynically—these professions of love weren't beautiful but painful; to him, to her and to those listening. These were the confessions of the broken and the damaged.

"I did not see March the patient, I honestly didn't even know who he was, I only saw a psychopath with a gun and my doctor on the floor—I only saw the gun and the blood. I reacted to what was around me, I didn't analyze, I didn't do a differential to see what caused it, he shot her! I didn't care why at the time; I didn't give a damn about anything else at that moment. So I responded, and yes it was extreme, and yes it wasn't pretty but it was what I felt was needed and Your Honor…" House turned; there was no holding back, no hindrance. It was rare, but in that moment the full power of everything that House was, everything that House believed in, lived for, was in his expression, burning in his eyes. His look sung the truth, "I would do it again, and I would not change a thing."

The courtroom was unnaturally quiet; it was a supernatural silence that punctuated Houses' vehement words. The atmosphere was nearly reverent.

The judge swallowed and drug in a deep breath, words were strangely hard to choke out. No one was left unaffected in the room, least of all him, but it wasn't his job to be moved, in fact it was everything opposite of that. He had to be blind; he had to weigh the facts, not the emotion.

It was the prosecutor who was moving to stand that forced the judge to take action. "Take your seat council, the State has presented their case—I have a few questions now."

"Dr. House, would you please, for the court address the assault charge which is a result of a course of actions taken in Marcus March's hospital room?" the Judge phrased his question carefully, with utmost formality. In his heart he had already passed verdict, in his heart he pictured his wife of nearly 40 years—his high school sweetheart, in his heart he was with the haggard man. But his job was fact, black and white and this charge was going to be hard to explain away. He could only pray Dr. House was as astute and smart as he seemed to be.

'State of mind' was mentioned several times over the next few minutes of testimony as were a few other choice terms but those had nothing to do with judicial process or motions of the court.

"Your Honor, my job is to figure out puzzles, I take symptoms and complications add them together and make a answer—that is what I do everyday, that is how I think, how I work, that is what I am. I needed answers; I needed information to figure out what had happened to my doctor.

"I still didn't remember who March was, I didn't have his diagnosis of Huntington's yet to add as a variable. I still saw his as a psycho. I inflicted pain yes—but I didn't do permanent damage, I only changed his level of comfort. I wasn't concerned with anything else other than figuring out why this happened—if I didn't I couldn't be sure it wouldn't happen again…"

"So you are saying you still believed Marcus March was a threat to Dr. Cameron's life?" Eisenhower jammed his chair back, suddenly standing eyes narrowing, like he was closing in on prey. It was an odd sight.

"Yes—I thought…"

"Objection your honor!" Gary Buck leapt from his table, "Leading! And come on the man was critical—there is no way Dr. House could have viewed him as a physical threat to Dr. Cameron!"

"Are you a doctor as well as an physiatrist Mr. Buck? …Perhaps if you spent less time trying to be those you could maybe be a somewhat less sucky prosecutor." House couldn't stop himself.

"Please refrain from addressing Mr. Buck, Dr. House," the Judge calmly instructed, "As for leading—objection sustained. Mr. Eisenhower, you will refrain from directly leading Dr. House."

"Please continue Dr. House," the Judge prompted.

"Reoccurrence of symptoms…I had to figure why March did what he did, if I didn't I was sure it would reoccur…I know that it doesn't make sense, I know that—I do. I understand that it wasn't likely that March would be let to go merrily on his way after shooting up a hospital, but it didn't seem like that…I had to endure taking my doctor to the doors of the OR, watch the doors close on her and know there was nothing I could do, even though I was a doctor, to save her. I didn't know if she was going to live or die, I didn't know anything except I could possibly lose her. I wasn't thinking rationally. My instincts, make me a hell of a diagnostician but severely lacking in other areas…" he paused almost unnoticeably to actually make eye contact with Cameron, he lacked when it came to her—it was his lacking, his failing that him shutting her out, only letting her get marginally close because of a bullet. "Those instincts—that inherent part of me took over and I acted on those impulses, it wasn't reasonable I know looking back, but it was all that I had to do…and yes I was terrified I was going to lose her and that he would come back to finish what he started."

The Judge was quiet, the prosecutor was fuming, and Eisenhower wasn't blinking. There was only one other charge that was left to address and in the scheme of things it was probably the most daunting.

"Lets take a ten minute recess alright?" Judge Winston framed it as a question but didn't leave enough time for either council to agree or decline.

The courtroom cleared, House hobbled to the waiting area he had been designated, Eisenhower, Cuddy, Chase, Wilson, Foreman in tow—Cameron lagged a little behind.

House sat the head of small table, back to the wall facing the cloistered bunch, "Can you all give me and Cameron a minute?" and like the Judge though House indicated question his tone held no hint or room for argument.

Wilson looked at Cuddy, Chase looked at Forman and Eisenhower looked at his tie, seemingly inspecting it for crumbs. Cameron swore she saw him scrimp one and eat it, her stomach rolled.

"You too Perry Mason," House shooed him contemptuously when only Eisenhower remained.

He made a sour face but waddled out the door, slamming it behind him.

"Are you okay?" House beat her to the punch.

Cameron sputtered out a laugh sliding into the chair next to him, "Considering you're the one on trial it seems I should be asking you that," she softly said, her hand moving of its compulsion to lie against his cheek. "You are so...so...amazing, do you know that?" she smiled slightly fighting not to worry her lip between her teeth, thumb gently rubbing his cheek. "Please let me testify…please? Let me tell the judge what happened between March and I…let me intercede for you if I can…all you have to do is put me on the list…please let me do this House…" she pleaded.

House smiled his wry smile, which gave away little yet managed to say a whole lot more then he usually did. "No, not a chance—the state didn't call you so we're sure as hell not. You are not getting up on that stand. You are going to have a hard enough time if March doesn't take the deal and goes to trial. No, this isn't about you really, it's about me, what I did and like I told the judge I would do everything that I did over, in a heartbeat…" He pried her hand away from his cheek, kneading it between his.

She closed her eyes trying to staunch stubborn tears that weren't taking head to orders. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you… This is s_o_ about me; about me in everyway…I am the reason you're here! Let me help if I can!"

House sighed long and loud, "No." It was his last word on the subject, even if the bailiff hadn't rapped on the door summoning them back to the courtroom.

"House!" she cried out when he rose from the table and made it to the door even while she remained at the table unwilling to leave. Panic was threading through her, wrapping around the muscles in throat, constricting the windpipe.

He stiffened, "Don't ask me again—please." He didn't turn.

She was breaking apart, falling apart. "If you could save my life…if you could literally save me by doing one little one—one tiny thing that would take no more than twenty minutes…would you?"

His shoulders sagged, "This isn't the same—and you know I would."

She nodded affirmation, but knew he couldn't see it, "I do know, because you have…so why can't I do this for you?"

"Because, my life isn't on the line, just a few years of it, and I've already made up my mind that I won't have those years taken from me—we won't lose."

"If you really believed that you would look me in the eye while you testified, you would look at me now!" she rose fluidly.

She was in front of him demanding his attention; he wouldn't give it, "If I look at you in there I will lose it." He answered simply.

"And here? What about here?" she gestured.

"Cameron, lets leave this as it is."

She had nothing left to argue, no recourse, she had to let him walk out that door because the bailiff was shouting for them.

He went out the door leaving her in the quiet room only his echoing footsteps and throbbing soul was audible.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"He's insane, you know that right?" Wilson lowly hissed at Cuddy's ear.

"Yes, I had an inkling," Cuddy shook her head surprised nonetheless.

They were watching a reenactment of the police department interrogation. Complete with flat open cans of soda and food wrappers.

"You ordered lunch?" Eisenhower prompted from his table.

"Yes, but only after they had left me in the room for forty-five minutes."

"And then what happened?"

"Detective Mathis came in and he had a bag of food with him," House indicated the greasy paper bag on the table.

"And?"

"Your honor I need someone to volunteer to play me—don't know how one goes about this…do I ask for volunteers or do you just offer me what's behind curtain number 1?"

The Judge suppressed a smirk; "You can ask someone from gallery if they are willing."

House asked Wilson if he would volunteer with quirked eyebrows and a gesture toward the chair.

Wilson muttered something unintelligible, rolled his eyes then stood.

"Detective Mathis brought in the food, then threw it on the table like this…" House made a show of going through a door and tossing the bag angrily at Wilson.

"So you sick bastard…I hear you were beating up Congressman Keelson's kid huh…" House launched into roll playing, his Jersey accent was thick.

Wilson didn't have to feign shock.

"I said—I heard you were beating up on Congressman Keelson's kid, are deaf as well as a cripple?" House paced in front of the table spinning to slam the table with his palms, making it shake.

Wilson scrabbled to read off the paper that had been given to him when he assumed his roll.

"He shot my doctor."

"That whore? From what I hear she deserved it…She's nothing but a c…" House played the part well, too well maybe, Wilson looked horrified as the vulgar word split the tension filled air and Cameron visibly flinched.

The whole room gasped, then stilled.

"This isn't the story House told us at the restaurant!" Forman blinked.

"Did you really think House punched a cop simply because he called Cameron a liar?" Chase speculated none too surprised at the sudden version of the story.

House was braced glowering down at Wilson breathing heavy, eyes fiery. His pulse was visible in the veins of his forehead, the cords of his neck rippled taut with strain and sweat beaded on his top lip.

Wilson blinked at the paper, at the words he was supposed to say, he swallowed closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds, "You—on the take from the New Jersey mob, in the pocket of Keelson…you sorry excuse for a human being…you have no idea what Allison Cameron is and you…you, are the scum, the slim of the earth. You make me ashamed to be a man…"

At this point House did something no one was really expecting, he grabbed the edge of the table lifted it up, slammed it down then violently flipped it, he came down to Wilson's level who was still in the chair as the stage directions indicated; he spit in his face.

Wilson following the cues on the paper (though unbelieving that House actually spit in his face) slid the chair back, rose then started to throw the damning punch which had brought on the charge.

Because everyone was expecting the punch it was a bit of a surprise when House blocked it, grabbing Wilson by the shoulder and threw a punch into this stomach.

And in that instant the rest of the scenario was clear and House broke character, "That your Honor is what happened and I still have the bruise." He pulled up his t-shirt and button down oxford to reveal the still heavily black and blue mark.

The Judge was silent. The whole thing was inadmissible and extremely inflammatory, if actual attorneys had attempted to stage such a thing he wouldn't have allowed to progress passed the first two minutes, but there was something so honest, so true about House's portrayal and the fact that he was just a citizen had him so that that he weighed it, weighed it heavily. The accusations of House's testimony were grave and hard to prove, if not impossible. The implications were outstanding actually. He was a judge but not blind, he could already hear the gears turning in the minds of the cops that were present in the courtroom. If in fact the cop was dirty he would be rooted out, but getting the Blue Line to acknowledge that one of them could breach the lines so completely would be next to impossible. It would be hell for House, a personal hell inflicted by New Jersey's finest.

The Judge prepared to dismiss the court for the day and inform council that he would hear closing arguments tomorrow afternoon but was distracted by a commotion at the rear of the room.

The heavy wood double door burst open making a popping thud that rocketed around the acoustic room like a double barrel shot gun blast. There were a couple feminine gasp and a few grunts of disbelief.

"I'm sorry for the interruption Judge Winston—" a tall, lean, distinguished looking gentleman with steel gray hair and hawk-like amber colored eyes commanded the room.

"Tell me that isn't who I think it is!" Chase tersely whispered.

"If you're saying you don't want me to tell you that is Attorney General Jerry O'Callan I will…but it'd be a lie," Foreman answered just as bewildered as Chase.

"Mr. O'Callan…" if Judge Winston was caught off guard or uncomfortable with the man who had just burst into his courtroom he didn't show it. "To what do we owe this honor?"

Mr. O'Callan dressed in an impeccable dark blue suit with thin pinstripes of dove grey approached the bench, black leather briefcase in hand, "I do apologize for the manner of this, but it is imperative you and I speak in your chambers—now."

Buck was half out of his chair before O'Callan finished his sentence, "Sit down Mr. Buck, you will be informed shortly." O'Callan didn't turn when he spoke but with a flick of his wrist undid the two buttons that were closed on his jacket as he followed Judge Winston toward his chambers.

"All rise," the bailiff scrambled with formalities even though the black robes the people were standing for were quickly disappearing into the back.

* * *

I promise, the next chapter will not be as long in coming...I'm truly sorry for the delay, it's been just a miserable time getting this done...hmmph. I know that the technical 'law' bit was way overblown and in places a bit (okay a lot) unbelievable but I hope that it still keeps some kind of truth and that ultimately what comes across his Houses' growth as a human being...and his willings to do anything to make sure he stays with Cameron. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed :-) Lots of Love - RA 


	17. THE END

In chambers the Judge sat behind his desk trying to look only mildly curious, but knew unlike in the courtroom he was failingly miserably under this close scrutiny.

"You handle the courtroom well John, it's been a while since I was able to see you in action."

Judge Winston fought a smile, "Yeah, I'm afraid I didn't sell out quite the same way as you did Jerry. How is the Capital treating you?"

O'Callan smirked crossing an ankle over his opposite knee. "Fine, just fine—have to say we've come a ways from college. How's Rebecca?"

"She's good—real good, we just sent our last off to Yale so she's struggling with the empty nest thing. Shelly—your kids?"

"Shelly is good—pretty busy what this being an election year but she enjoys it I think as for kids, we only had Marshall, he's over in Iraq right now—sergeant in the army, just like his dad…" pride was over abundant in said father.

A bit of tension hung in the pregnant pause. "I know you didn't just walk in the middle of my courtroom to have a belated reunion, shall we get down to the real reason you're here or should we bull shit some more?" Winston smirked.

"You know why I'm here."

"Through deductive reasoning I'd have to say it's because of my current case," dry sarcasm was prevalent.

O'Callan pursed his lips with a reluctant smile, "Still the same smart ass you always were. Yes I am here because of your case. I need the charges against Greg House dropped."

Winston laughed a guttural laugh that held no humor. "Is that all? You do realize that that isn't in my power right?"

"I do. I'm merely coming to you first out of courtesy. The case is superfluous anyway—there really is no chargeable crime, everything has a reasoning that can be—and should be applied. I'm really almost surprised it went to court at all."

"Almost surprised? Then you know why it did?"

"Of course I do, it's also the reason I need it to go away."

"Congressman Keelson," Winston sighed.

"So it would seem."

"Are you going to tell me why it needs to vanish?"

"I was thinking about it, but frankly you are acting rather pompous and I hate arrogance." O'Callan mimicked Winston's haggard mock sigh.

"It certainly takes an arrogant fellow to pick out the sliver in his neighbors eye while ignoring the pole in his own."

"I'll be watching out for the lightening God sends your way for stealing His material."

Winston smirked, "Out with it O'Callan!" he gruffly ordered.

"My office is mounting a case against Keelson involving taking bribes, possible drug smuggling and deals with the Rizzo crime family. We haven't had enough evidence to actually press charges but an—well we'll say _informant_ has brought us evidence that will put Keelson away for a good long while—the catch being House walks—which I'm all for anyway so its an easy thing to do.

"I'm taking this to you first, before I go to the State because of our standing and because I'm concerned the corruption is spread further than my office realized.

"John I don't know who all is involved," O'Callan lost any of his previous joviality. "We haven't had our eye on the New Jersey District Office and now I'm starting to wonder if that wasn't my first mistake. I thought Francis was a good DA, I truly did but I can only come to the conclusion that she is either on the take from Rizzo and is being pressured by them by way of Keelson…or Keelson is directly pressuring Francis…neither and yet both have validity, except why would Rizzo turn coat on Keelson by coming to me?"

Winston raised an eyebrow, O'Callan just outed his _informant_ but still what was even more curious was the obvious answer O'Callan hadn't come to yet, "The most interesting question here, which in and of itself is your answer is who is putting pressure on the Rizzo's?…"

O'Callan looked irritated but it quickly turned to understanding, "You're imply that there is someone higher up on the food chain that is putting pressure on the Rizzo's…"

Winston resisted rolling his eyes; his friend was a damned good attorney but sometimes a little thick. "I am, and if you are willing to weigh conjecture for a moment I'll tell you what I think is going on."

"Please," Winston waved him to continue.

"If I put everything together it would be my surmise that Keelson who has obvious sway with the DA pulled in favors to get Dr. House charged, the DA office is most likely in some capacity working with the Rizzo family but I'd guess only as far as the Keelson connection takes them—this being said I think when Keelson put pressure on the Rizzo's to make sure House was put away Rizzo felt the squeeze from a larger, more intimidating source…and if you were to ask me to guess on the origin I would venture a stab at the Greco family—because what does a crime family have to fear aside from a larger family?"

O'Callan gaped. "Shit—this is getting complicated."

Winston leaned back in his chair folding his arms across his chest, "So therein is your question and your answer."

"Answer being, yes the Jersey State District Attorneys' Office is corrupt, yes Keelson is undeniably dirty, and apparently so is the local PD and the reason Rizzo offered up implicating information on Keelson is because they were told to by a damn bigger family! Your answers lead me to bigger questions Winston!"

Winston shrugged, "The only question I'm really concerned with is why this bigger family—and I can only assume it's the Greco family, would want to protect one Dr. Gregory House?"

O'Callan blinked. "Hell John, we need to get together more often, this is fun."

Winston smirked.

_**---Protecting His Kitten---**_

"He can go? Just like that?" Cameron couldn't believe it.

"Yes ma'am, he just needs to sign these forms acknowledging the return of his things." The impatient bailiff nodded to the small cardboard box and form filled clipboard.

They had been sitting in the waiting room for the last two hours since the swooping of Attorney General Jerry Hawk-Eye O'Callan sent the court into unplanned recess. Cameron couldn't grasp what was being said. "He can go? The charges have been dropped…it's over? _Really over_?" she shuddered squeezing House's hand.

"Yes ma'am."

Cameron's eyes filled with tears, "It's over…" she whispered looking at House, still not quite believing.

House was equally suspicious and hadn't, nor probably would any time soon, accepted it. "Yes, it's over," he repeated the assurance after her just to ease her. He loosened his hand from hers so he could cup the back of her head pulling her against him resting his lips against her hair. "It's over…" he said again when he felt her sobs against his neck and her arms wrap around his middle.

With a free hand he scribble his name on the forms pushing it back to the fidgeting bailiff. He silently questioned the man with his eyes but the young man could only shrug.

While Cameron cried tears of undeniable relief and indescribable joy at the ordeal being over House wasn't quite as ready to say it was done. It was too weird, too sudden, too everything, his celebration wouldn't happen till he had real answers.

"We just heard!" Cuddy with company in tow came through the door.

"Can't believe it—the charges were asinine, but still…!" Wilson beamed.

"It's all done finally," Foreman and Chase shared their pleasure at the ordeal being done.

House was reluctant to voice his concerns but something was itching.

"Let's all get out of here! I mean seriously!" Cuddy laughed beckoning the group to hightail it.

The lighthearted group didn't hesitate and House didn't either for that matter. Cameron was beaming has she clung to his side like a vine.

"I'm sorry for this interruption of such a happy time…"

The six looked to the door that had been carelessly left often. It was Michael Greco and Damien Rizzo. They stood in the doorway dressed in like dark suits with sunglasses clasped in her olive complexion hands.

It dawned clear and brilliant as a bell—it was indeed over, House breathed a truly filling breath. "Not all," he almost smiled.

"There will be no more trauma to you and yours Dr. House—we promise this. That my family was in anyway a part Keelson's atrocity we deeply regret—please be assured that we are taking care of this from top to bottom. We owe you Dr. House—you and yours," Damien Rizzo's' eyes moved from House to Cameron, "And we never forget our debts."

Neither House nor Cameron knew what to say, they stared at the men for a long second; House nodded acknowledging Rizzo's vow.

Satisfied Damien Rizzo gave a slight bow and backed away from the group before turning to stride down the hall.

"It's done House—go home, enjoy your victory," Michael Greco clapped House on the shoulder.

"Thank you Mikey," House said simply his grip on Cameron tightening slightly.

Michael smiled, nodded, "That we could begin to repay you—that is all the thanks we need. A friend you will always be House—don't hesitate to call on me again—we have your back—you and yours." Michael took his time in letting his gaze hesitate once over each in the group.

Before the stunned group of medical professionals could recover from their dazed stupor Michael was blending into the courtroom crowd.

"Am I the only one that is not at all comforted by that?!" Wilson growled.

House snickered, "Having the two biggest crime families on the east coast as friends has to be better than having them as enemies."

No one could think of an argument to that—and they were trying very hard.

"I'm starving—anyone go for pizza?" House asked breaking the heavy tension.

"We'll order in—I just want to go home and sleep for a week, I'm exhausted!" Cameron sagged a little more against House, who in turn put more weight on his cane.

"Ditto to that—I am so glad everything worked out—go enjoy freedom House!" Cuddy laughed and hugged him despite the pained expression he gave when he discovered her intent.

Chase and Foreman shook House's hand gruffly. There was more said in the handshake then ever could be with words. Act of solidarity, no matter what differences between the three men they were comrades in arms when it came to the defense of Cameron. None would forget that.

Wilson stood beside House, hand on his friends' shoulder, "Not much more needs to be said at this moment—just keep in mind what you've gained from this—keep her House, I know you're thinking of cutting and running but I'm telling you—_keep her_."

The entourage left, leaving House and Cameron standing silent and still.

"Cameron?"

"Hmm?"

"I really meant it when I said I loved you—you know that right?"

She was too tired to be shocked and perhaps for that reason the warmth that spread through her was reassuring instead of scary, the joy and contentment that filled her was complete. "I love you too—more than I ever thought I could…"

House smiled slowly to himself, "You know, I'm thinking about kissing you right now…"

She smiled against his shoulder, "I'm thinking that's a good plan."

And so he did; he kissed her long and sound.

"'For it was not into my ear you whispered, but into my heart. It was not my lips you kissed, but my soul'." Cameron whispered softly against his ear when they broke apart.

House pulled back to look quizzically at her, he knew the quote—he had given a valentine before but even though it had never been more appropriate that right at that moment it did seem an odd thing to actually hear said aloud.

"It was you—you pulled me back. I came back for you…" her voice was hoarse and barely audible.

This made him frown in confusion.

"When I was shot…I was almost gone…I hallucinated, was unconscious—whatever it is you want to call…I wasn't _here_ and I didn't want to come back…it was a good hallucination, I was happy and it was—_good_. But I came back—and I came back because of you…I woke up when they were wheeling me into the OR…and I remember you kissing my forehead and you telling me it would be okay… You brought me back—you called my soul back…" She was pretty sure he thought her a loon and she was pretty sure he was correct but like the tears that were escaping she just didn't care enough about it to stop.

"My heart—my soul—they are yours. Yours because I had given them up when I was in between here and wherever I was, I was willing to give it all up for those moments of false eternity—but you wouldn't let me, you took them and have protected them, guarded them ever since. My protector, my guardian…the love and keeper of my heart and soul…" she nearly laughed at her sappy, romantic words but she couldn't, because she meant every one.

Staggered and speechless he stared at her. So then, for lack of anything else he kissed her—again.

_My true-love hath my heart, and I have his,  
By just exchange one for the other given.  
I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss:  
There never was a bargain better driven.  
His heart in me keeps me and him in one;  
My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides:  
He loves my heart, for once it was his own;  
I cherish his because in me it bides.  
His heart his wound received from my sight;  
My heart was wounded with his wounded heart;  
For as from me on him his hurt did light,  
So still, __methought__, in me his hurt did smart:  
Both equal hurt, in this change sought our bliss,  
My true love hath my heart and I have his.  
--**Sir Philip Sidney  
**_

_**THE END**_

_**….**_

"…What exactly was your hallucination about again?"

Cameron grinned blushing slightly, "Maybe one day I'll tell you—but not today…"

He frowned at her guiding her up the steps to his apartment.

She chuckled, "I will say that I have a new appreciation for leather and David Lee Roth…"

She nearly lost it when his eyebrows shot up and his chin fell down and the fact he nearly walked into the door.

"But don't worry…you were there too…"

* * *

** there it is, the long, drawn out conclusion to Protecting His Kitten. I hope you've enjoyed, I've appreciated so much your wonderful reviews and that you've taken the time to so kindly leave them. I look so forward to hearing what you think of this chapter, and the story as a whole now that is done. I hope that I haven't disappointed too many… :-) **

**So once again, with much love and thanks, ****RaeAnne**


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